


Dancing on the Head of a Pin

by storyspinner70



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, Assassins & Hitmen, BDSM, Explicit Sexual Content, Fae Magic, M/M, Mercenaries, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Torture, Unrelated Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Violence, Were-Creatures, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 02:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19368559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyspinner70/pseuds/storyspinner70
Summary: Dean is an Alpha shrouded in mystery and darkness – quite literally. Sam is a revolutionary forcing change in the world the only way he knows how – with guns and blood and death. Dean makes a living doing what other weres can’t; no questions, no concerns – until a job to kill Sam becomes a drive to protect his mate instead. After a brutal betrayal, he finds his mate tortured but alive and takes him to a pack he sees only in Sam’s mind. Pack politics, an age old prophecy and magic Dean has no business wielding breed fear and cowardice that spreads from the forests to the pack lands. Sam and Dean hold their own against the fear and hatred from their pasts, but dealing with their own unusual mating and Sam’s need for something only Dean can give him lead them into a battle both are determined to win.Written for the 2019 SPN J2 Big Bang





	1. Chapter 1

**Fic title:** Dancing on the Head of a Pin

 **Artist name:** [phoenix1966](https://phoenix1966.livejournal.com)

 **Genre:** Unrelated Wincest

 **Pairing:** Dean/Sam

 **Rating:** NC-17

 **Warnings:** werewolves, Alpha/Alpha, unusual A/B/O dynamics, fae magic, violence, explicit elements of D/s, explicit sex, graphic violence, unrelated boys

 **A/N:** First off, huge thanks and appreciation to my amazing artist, phoenix1966! Love, love, love your work. Click below to see the art for this piece or on their name above to see all the other amazing work they have to offer! Go, go, go. Just, you know, come back to read our story! Secondly, thank you so much to my poor, beleaguered editor. Love you! Thirdly, the dub-con warning is for Dean not really wanting to do something but doing it anyway. And finally, D: sorry Mark Pellegrino, you are almost always the bad guy in my stories. SORRY. But not really. Ooooh, and E: Böxenwolf is a real thing. His legends vary widely from him being evil to a trickster to a complete and utter fool. I chose the badass one, of course. And yes, I did mention they were sometimes called The Ghost and The Darkness cause I love the name of that movie. Sue me. Wait, no don't. Damn, one more note: Title taken from the episode On the Head of a Pin where Dean has to torture against his will.

 

[Go See the Art Here!](https://phoenix1966.livejournal.com/32695.html)

 

   **Dancing on the Head of a Pin**

 

Razor sharp teeth snapped down. One more inch and, _yes_ , there it was. That perfect moment when fangs locked tight in gristle, flesh and bone. There was no give here, no forgiveness. The alpha underneath him must submit or die. Those were his only choices and it was the alpha's alone to make, though choice was, at best, an illusion. Whether the alpha died here in Dean's grip or at the hands of the alpha's own pack, the alpha would be dead by morning.

The rogue wolf paused a moment, then howled his goodbye to the silent, waiting creatures in the dark. As he renewed his struggles, Dean simply snapped his head to one side, flesh and muscle tearing easily under his snout. Blood filled his mouth and the sounds of the dying filled his ears. He turned from the downed alpha, spat the flesh in his mouth on the ground and groomed the blood from his fur. The alpha twisted and convulsed, then lay still.

Before the alpha's final throes were even over, Dean stood tall, skin and bone and blood, to made sure the alpha was dead. Gathering his long-handled machete, he removed the alpha's head, then burned the rest. Howls rose in the night – anger, despair and hopelessness echoed through the trees. A rogue wolf was a tragedy in more ways than one – tearing into their pack and any they encountered along the way.

Dean gathered his tools and the alpha's head and walked away.

**

Dean knew what they whispered about him – stories about a deal with the Devil that gifted him with his unusual strength; his cold heart. Tales about a motherless were sprung full grown from the ground, spit there from the depths of the Hell they were so sure he came from.

Some called him Shadow, most The Darkness, but his favorite was when they called him Böxenwolf. Böxenwolf was a German legend about a human in league with the Devil that loved to torment his victims and could transform into creatures of immeasurable strength by simply buckling on a certain piece of leather. The comparison suited him just fine. He even bought wide leather cuffs to wear at his wrists. It amused him to buckle them on in the center of a pack den; weres scattering around him like fireflies as he did so.

He was an alpha like thousands of other weres. A man, a beast, a wolf. Far from a motherless pup, Dean had a mother like all the other weres in the world. But there _was_ a difference. Dean was the child of two alphas, born from a womb that should have been barren, unnecessary. Everyone knew alphas could only conceive if there was a beta or omega somewhere in the mix. Her pregnancy was unusual from conception.

It's not that alpha/alpha pairs were unheard of, there had been several through the years and occurred at least once in most packs. But none of them had ever had cubs – it just wasn't possible. Until Dean's parents met and fell in love, that is.

What a struggle _that_ had been. Alpha pairs were not known for their ease – that went against their very nature. But as fiercely as they fought, they loved just as hard. Against all odds, Dean's mother and father had found their middle ground and no amount of fighting had ever knocked them out of it.

His mother was one of the fiercest alphas the pack had ever known. Trigger quick, she never hesitated to decimate an enemy of her people the second she recognized a threat. She took to childbirth the same way. She had no illness, no obvious discomfort and being pregnant never even slowed her down.

That drew even more attention than her being pregnant in the first place.

As she grew more pregnant, the pack began to turn on her, whispering, gossiping, calling out long forgotten prophesies about a were born in an impossible circumstance – a were that would destroy the world. It was ridiculous and it was nonsense, but the pack shut his parents out, leaning heavily on the sibilant whispers of a “prophet” determined to warn everyone of the end of the pack as they knew it. His parents made do.

And then, whipped into a frenzy and getting more and more frantic, the pack decided they had to rid themselves of this looming threat against their very way of life. His parents fled their pack lands – driven out by increasing hate and violence. The more bold weres had even taken to trying to trip his mother or shove her down stairs or in front of vehicles. She and his father left a string of broken weres behind them when they ran.

His mother was within two weeks of giving birth when the pack finally caught up to them. They left them both for dead – his mother, throat ripped out and dying; his father, less hurt, but so covered in blood it was impossible to tell. Grimly, he held her hand as he hurried her death along, whispering the whole time about how he would save their child.

As soon as she was gone, his father cut him from his mother's womb, cleaned him the best he could, and wrapped him in what blood soaked fur he could cut from his mother's ruined clothes. Dean still kept that scrap of fur packed in the false bottom of every bag he carried.

He and his father lived for years alone and on the run. His father taught him to hunt; to survive and every detail of his mother's death – right down to the claw marks that rendered her blind in one eye before she finally lost her fight.

**

The day after he turned 18, two things happened. Dean's father killed himself and Dean walked out of a tattoo parlor with living reminders of what his mother and father had been through. Thick black lines bisected his left eye from his forehead to his cheek, just like the claw marks that marred his mother's beautiful face. His parents’ names and the days they died were scrawled on his back. Dean fingered the stinging flesh of his face as he set fire to his father's corpse.

Dean had been without a pack and alone ever since, but helped those in need where he could. When that started to involve bringing rogue or dangerous weres to their leaders for justice, the packs took notice. Pretty soon, he was being paid handsomely to find the unfindable; punish the unpunishable.

They were afraid of him. Unsure how he came to be stronger and faster than their strongest alpha, wondering how he became such a part of the dark as to be invisible, not knowing what turned his bright green eyes to pure ice and left him so distant. A few of the braver souls had asked him his name, why he was alone or where he was from, but all it took was a look from his bottomless eyes, and they never asked again. Stories about him flourished.

The only information he ever offered anyone was his first name and his fee. But even with his silence and their fear, it was enough that he kept them safe. Even with the blood still oozing from the alpha's head in his hands, it was enough.

Dropping the head at the pack alpha's feet, Dean wiped his hands. "It's done."

"They could use your help in Pellegrino's pack two territories over. Rogues. He's a miserable bastard, but he won't cheat you."

Dean nodded, collected the other half of his pay and left the pack behind.

**

Pellegrino’s pack was three days travel to the west and was one of the mid-sized packs in the state. They were growing at a steady pace hampered, as Pellegrino expounded at length, only by the rogues plaguing the area. Dean listened with half an ear until Pellegrino got to the point.

One rogue in particular was causing trouble – murdering “fine upstanding weres” and stealing one of their most valuable commodities – their breeding stock. It wasn’t like Dean hadn’t heard that before – omegas were forcibly reduced to property in more than half of the packs in the state, hell, the country – and these rogues were hated mostly because they were jeopardizing those packs most valuable trade.

Dean didn’t get involved in pack politics in general, and kept his disgust at the sheer malevolence and arrogance of these alphas to himself. He’d been known to help an omega in need when the chance presented itself, but he never went out of his way for that, either. He’d wondered, from time to time, if things were different, if he’d be one of the hated vigilantes or a selfish alpha with formerly strong omegas broken and ground beneath his boot.

It didn’t matter, though. Things weren’t different, and Dean… well one thing Dean couldn’t afford to do was care. When Pellegrino was done preaching, Dean collected the very generous first half of his pay and headed out. He had a were to find.

**

Two weeks later, Dean had found just the were he was after. Sam Campbell. Sam was an assassin, and a damn good one from what Dean could see. He was in and out like a shadow, barely leaving even a whiff of himself behind. It had taken Dean twice as long to find him as any of his other targets.

Dean had gone to Pellegrino's pack lands and listened to him rant and rave about Sam and his band of “anarchists”, as the disgruntled alpha called them. Dean had offered no opinion, even when asked for one, and refused to allow any of Pellegrino's men to accompany him. He worked alone. Always. Other people just slowed him down, and he didn't have time for that and wasn't inclined to have to watch out for strangers.

Pellegrino had been miffed, but he and his men had had no luck so far when it came to tracking the elusive assassin, so he had little choice but to buckle to Dean's quiet directives. He'd paid Dean half his fee, as was usual, and pointed out where Sam had recently been spotted. Dean would return with Sam or his head, whichever way this happened to go.

Pellegrino seemed a little too pleased to have Dean looking for Sam, but Dean shrugged that off. He sensed there was a lot more to the story than the alpha let on, but Dean wasn't interested in stories. He'd been paid to do a job. The lies behind it weren't his concern.

Fourteen days later, Dean had pinned Campbell down to a clearing where Sam was readying his weapons for his next kill. Silently, he'd just broken through the trees, when Sam jerked upright, staring directly at him. The wind shifted and brought with it a scent so dark and sweet Dean couldn't help but breathe deep.

Son of a bitch. Dean knew that smell; could feel it in the pit of his stomach. His head began to throb in time with his quickening heart. His cock stirred, heavy and hard in his pants.

God dammit. Sam Campbell smelled like sex and candy and newly turned earth. Sam Campbell smelled like mate.

**

Sam tensed, certain he'd heard something. Deliberately going back to his task, Sam pretended he didn't know anyone was around. It wasn't the first time a pack had sent someone after him and it wouldn't be the last. They didn't call him Ghost for nothing.

Sam was straining to pick out sounds and smells when it hit him. Moss and oranges and blood and dark, wet earth. Sweet and bitter, harsh and smooth. _Mate._ Son of a bitch. He jerked his head up.

A were broke through the trees, staring at Sam like he was lunch.

Mother of God. Böxenwolf was his mate. This was going to get rough.

**

"I won't submit to you," Sam said.

"Of course you will."

"No."

"And why is that, Sammy?"

"It's Sam, and it's because I want you on your knees." A pause. "Where you belong."

Dean threw back his head and laughed. "Aren't you a handful, pretty? No matter. I may be on my knees when this is over, _sweetheart_ , but you'll be on yours underneath me."

**

Sam threw his gun as far into the forest as he could, then unbuckled knives and handguns, watching as Böxenwolf did the same.

"No weapons?" Böxenwolf asked.

"No weapons. I want to feel you when you bleed."

Böxenwolf laughed again. "Call me Dean, Sammy."

"Dean…" A low growl barely recognizable as a word, but full of lust, need, and determination.

The haze of lust and need was nearly impossible to work through, but neither Sam nor Dean were your regular, run of the mill weres. Dean shook his head, the smell of Sam dark and heavy in his nose. “I can almost taste you on my tongue, Sammy. Let's get this done. I want to be balls deep in you before dark.”

Sam snorted, dizzy and off balance from the pull of pheromones and lust. “You can try, Dean. Or should I call you Böxenwolf?”

Dean looked pleased. “Dean is just fine, Sammy. Or do you prefer Ghost?”

“You can call me anything you like while I'm fucking you, Dean.”

Dean threw back his head and laughed. “I'm gonna enjoy this, Sammy.”

They had been steadily circling each other as they spoke, drawn to each other like magnets. As they drew closer the sweet, dark scent of each other magnified, pulling them harder and harder to inevitability.

“Sammy.” A growl, deep and commanding.

“Dean.” A rebuttal.

Dean lashed out, striking fast and hard. Sam stepped into the hit, striking with one of his own. This wasn't going to be easy, that was sure.

**

Matings were renowned for many things – joy, shock, love, lust, and above all, a primal awakening of the true nature of a were. Weres wore their animal just under their skin, all wrapped up in their veins and muscles. Their animal ran through everything – every thought, every decision. That was never more true than at the time of mating. With both weres reduced to pure feeling and instinct, it was critical that matings were not interrupted or disturbed in any way. Pellegrino, of course, had no idea what was going on and what he was interrupting.

He and his men had been following Dean at a safe distance. The map he had given Dean had tiny tracking markers embedded in the ink, so they had no problem staying far enough away to avoid detection. Pellegrino had not been completely honest with Dean about why he wanted Sam, or just how much he wanted him dead. He also hadn't clued him into the fact that he had to be the one to kill Sam, in the slowest, most painful way possible. 90% of Dean's retrievals were dead. Pellegrino couldn't allow that to happen this time.

He knew he'd probably have to kill Dean after he led them to Sam. Dean would not be happy with his interference. It was no great loss for Pellegrino. Dean was packless, shiftless. No one would miss him, and Pellegrino had no intention of paying him a dime more for a job Dean would never finish anyway.

As they came upon the clearing where Dean and Sam were fighting, Pellegrino cursed and signaled his men. They fell back to a safe distance and Pellegrino gave them their orders. Neither Dean nor Sam would ever see it coming.

He was right. In the heat of their mating struggle, neither Dean nor Sam noticed anything was wrong until Sam suddenly grunted and jerked back, his hand clutching his chest. Dean instinctively caught Sam to him as Sam stumbled. As Sam fell, Dean noticed a blood spot high on Sam's chest, the scent of his mate’s blood bringing Dean into a rolling crouch above Sam.

Dean started growling a warning to whoever it was who dared to hurt his mate.

The sound of a gun cocking pierced his confusion, though he would neither pull his eyes from Sam's face or his fingers from Sam's barely there pulse.

“Step away Dean. Don't make this harder than it needs to be.”

“Pellegrino, you piece of shit. What are you doing here?”

“At the risk of making this into one of those bad guy monologues, let's just say I knew if anyone could find Sam it would be you. No one has ever seen a better tracker than you. I couldn't allow you to kill Sam, though. That pleasure is mine alone.”

“I could tell you were lying about something when we were in your den.”

“And yet you never asked. Better for you in the long run. Trust me.”

“Whatever. Pay me the rest you owe me and I'll be gone.”

“I don't think so. I paid you plenty to find him. I'll take care of the rest.”

Dean gritted his teeth, thinking quickly. His mate was pale and growing colder under his hands. Sam’s breaths were labored and thready. Dean's instincts were telling him to rip Pellegrino into shreds with his teeth, but now that he was paying attention he could hear at least ten of Pellegrino's men milling about the clearing. There was no way either he or his mate would survive if he tried.

A faint pressure on his wrist drew his attention back to his mate. 'Go.' Sam mouthed. 'Go.'

Standing and leaving his mate lying injured on the ground was just about the hardest thing Dean had ever done. Feigning nonchalance as he faced Pellegrino was a close second. “What did he do anyway? Most people I know would rather let me take care of all their dirty work.”

“He killed my daughter.”

Dean's eyebrows climbed. “No wonder. Let me get my weapons and I'll be on my way. Have fun with whatever torture or horrific death you have in mind for him.”

“Dean.”

Dean turned his head in acknowledgment, but wouldn't look at Pellegrino – or his mate.

“I wouldn't waste time leaving the pack lands.”

Tightening his jaw, Dean merely nodded, then left.

**

Sam slowly became aware of two things: one, he was in excruciating pain and two, he couldn't move. He was face down in a filthy van of some kind, his arms cuffed tightly behind him, pulling at the wound on his chest. He tried to steady his breathing as much as he could and not let on he was no longer out.

“Ah, Sam.” He was not successful, then. “So glad you joined us. I was beginning to worry you wouldn't wake up. Apparently I misjudged your fortitude.”

Sam snorted and refused to answer. God, he hoped Dean was close behind. He watched stone faced as Pellegrino selected a knife from the table in front of him. “I told you you were going to pay for my daughter, Sam. Hold on. This is going to sting.”

By the time Pellegrino stepped back, Sam had screamed himself hoarse and was spitting blood, but he hadn't said one word. “So stoic, Sam, even when you're screaming.” Pellegrino turned back to the table behind him. “No worries, Sam. This should loosen you right up.”

**

Dean scrambled through the mountains using every skill he had to keep track of Pellegrino and his mate. Since he and Sam hadn't consummated their mating, there was no mating bond like they'd have had if their mating was completed. He cursed Sam for being stubborn before guilt shut him up.

They had no way of knowing it would come to this. Though, if he were honest, he should have known something wasn’t quite right. Dean shook himself free of the introspection and put his energy into focusing. All Dean had was instinct and the scent of Sam’s blood in his nose. He could only hope it was enough.

It would have to be. Dean wasn’t about to let Sam slip through his fingers now. He’d use everything and everyone at his disposal to make sure that didn’t happen.

**

Sam met Mark Pellegrino for the first time when he was still young. Mark seemed exactly like a powerful alpha should – firm, decisive and poised. It was only when his daughter was around that Mark’s alpha facade became caring, doting and sweet.

Felicity was beautiful, her head full of dreams for a return to a better life for omegas and the making things more fair for the less advantaged packs in the world. Sam had just started his journey into the politics of pack life and he and Felicity would spend hours talking about what was wrong with the world and ways to fix those problems.

Felicity fell in love with Sam – slowly replacing her need to fix the world with the need for Sam’s lanky body and sincere voice. But Sam’s eyes were filled with a slow building need for justice – for retribution. There was no room left for Felicity – no interest in her as anything other than his awakening and his friend.

The day Sam excitedly visited her to explain his plan for changing pack politics, one that would take him far from her for the foreseeable future, he dismissed the pain on her face as jealousy that she couldn’t come along. The more he tried to explain, the darker her eyes grew. When he explained how she would only slow him down, and that he was off to find someone to train him to fight, to win, he couldn’t understand why she ended up screaming at him.

When she finally told him she loved him, there was a vitreous silence. Sam’s heartbeats were loud in his ears as he tried to think of something to say. One, two, three, four. The air felt like a porcelain doll on a rapidly thinning wire. One, two, three. He had no idea what to say. Words would not come. One, two more and she was gone. Sam rose to go, leaving what he’d thought was the friendship bracelet she made him on the table as he went.

Three weeks later, he heard of her death. Suicide. Guilt welled up in Sam’s throat, his mouth full of bile, his head full of memories. A blow to the back of his head snapped him back to his new reality, and he swallowed it all down, pushing it to the back of his mind. He would take time later to remember the beautiful, vibrant woman whose only mistake was loving someone that could never love her back.

It was two years before he learned Mark was looking for him, dead or alive. Regret rose up like a storm, but he pushed it back. He didn’t owe Mark anything. He understood the kind of anger Mark held for him. He felt it too, every time he came upon an omega so abused or neglected that they couldn’t walk properly or hold things with both hands. He felt the same impotent rage every time he found a dying omega abandoned and forgotten.

He understood, but he’d learned long ago that Felicity’s terrible love for him wasn’t his fault. He’d struggled with guilt for a long time, but finally, finally he was free. He had regret. He wished he had been smarter, that he had paid more attention, that he’d listened to the words she never said but had trusted him to hear.

But he had much more in the world to take care of besides regret. He had a world to change.

**

There was a lot of lore about weres, only some of which was true. Silver would not kill a were, for example, but it would stop a were from healing, so it was often used against them by people who knew that fact. Pellegrino had taken a small knife and cut Sam repeatedly from his chest to the soles of his feet – small, deep wounds that were not fatal but _were_ very painful. After, he poured liquid silver into those wounds, laughing as it sizzled and bubbled.

“Come on, Sam, hold out for me...just a bit longer,” Pellegrino traced the bulging tendons in Sam’s neck as Sam screamed, his voice cracking and breaking and finally going mostly silent and hoarse. “You killed Felicity, Sam just as sure as if you shoved the pills down her throat yourself. She was all I had left in this world to feel good about. You’re going to pay, and pay and pay.”

Pellegrino leaned down, his face right in Sam’s. “And when I finally let you die, you’re going to thank me for it.” He stood and walked over to a table full of items he had carefully gathered to use against Sam. “Oh, I know you think you did nothing wrong. Save the omegas. Save the packs. Save the world.” Mark waved his hands around.

“But I don’t care whether you knew she loved you or not. Whether you thought she was your best fucking friend or not. She’s dead and someone has to be to blame.” Mark approached with a screwdriver in his hand and drove it into one of Sam’s open wounds. “And that someone is always going to be you, Sam. Fair or not.”

**

Dean lost track of Sam about 40 miles in. He had a moment where he could see himself burning the world to the ground. He could feel it in his very bones, could feel every were he encountered shredding under his claws like any other meat. He was going to kill everyone and everything. There would be nothing left of the world but him and Sam.

He dropped to the ground, clawing at the dirt for more of Sam’s scent. He began to scream – long guttural bellows that echoed through the forest and swirled around his head. Seamlessly, it turned to howling as he shifted, his muzzle drilling into the ground chasing Sam’s smell.

Wolves in the distance howled back, their fear and confusion like a living thing. Dean tracked them down. They’d seen Pellegrino. They’d seen the van. Dean was off too fast to even say thank you.

**

When Sam came to again, all he noticed was burning. His very blood felt like it was on fire.

“Ah, Sam. There you are. I thought this would bring you back,” Pellegrino dropped a handful of syringes conspicuously into the trash when he was sure Sam’s blurry eyes had focused on him. “Human drugs are, as I’m sure you know, a waste on us. We’d have to take enough to kill two humans for it to even start to kick in. But they do burn like shit when you get them in an artery, don’t they?”

Pellegrino crouched in front of Sam. “Don’t worry. It won’t last long, then we can move on.”

Sam tried to scream, but he’d lost his voice long ago. _Dean_ , he thought for the hundredth time, _I’m so sorry. Way to pick a mate, huh?_

When mates found each other, they were bound. When one died, the other didn’t die as well, but they certainly wanted to. They lived their entire life with someone else in the back of their mind and all wrapped up in their heart and suddenly they were alone. It was just as likely they would waste away as they would move on. The only thing that kept Sam going was the fact that he and Dean had never completed the mating. Hopefully Dean wouldn’t be affected whenever Pellegrino finally let Sam die.

_Dean._

**

Dean was close. The scent of Sam’s blood was getting thicker, more fetid as he went. He could almost feel it on his fur and in his nose. He stretched out, dropped down and ran faster.

_Dean._

Dean growled deep in his throat. He could feel Sam now. Could feel him and his pain. There was no way he should have been able to – they hadn’t even gotten past the first step of their mating, but Sam was in the back of his mind now – an open wound throbbing underneath Dean’s anger and desperation.

Sam’s pain was screaming now. He had to be around here somewhere.

 _Sam. Sam. Sam._ Dean was chanting under his snarling breaths. _Sam. Sam. Sam._ A rhythm echoed in the pulse of pure agony coming from his mate.

_Dean._

An echo. A scream. He was close.

**

Sam was fading. He thought he could hear Dean coming, but that was clearly just a pain induced delusion. There was no way that Dean was anywhere near. Pellegrino had made sure of that. The ridiculously complicated route they took not only gave Pellegrino more time to keep Sam bound in the vehicle, it also guaranteed that even if anyone would look, they’d never find where they’d gone.

It was almost over. He could feel it.

There was a roaring in his ears and light was flashing all around him. He was being jostled roughly and he knew his time was coming to an end. He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful.

The roaring stopped and there was nothing but a strange, low hum. He was lowered to the ground and he knew they must already think he was dead. The hands untying him were gentler than he expected.

“Sam. You gotta wake up Sam. You gotta… You gotta hang on, okay? Let’s get you out of this, okay? Then we’ll go… well, the first place I see, alright?”

The low hum resolved itself to low, cracking voice.

 _Dean._ Dean came for him. Oh, Dean. Too late. He was too far gone. Dean couldn’t be here.

“Come on Sammy, snap out of it! You’re not going to die, you hear me? I just found you and I sure as hell am not going to lose you now!” Dean grabbed Sam’s battered face and yelled. “Sammy!”

Sam struggled to pay attention, and flinched when Dean started screaming at him.

“It’s Sam,” he whispered, doubting Dean could even hear him.

Dean started laughing, a stark, hateful sounding thing. “ _Sam_ ,” he agreed, his voice breaking. “Let’s get out of here.”

**

Dean got glimmers of a land. It had to be coming from Sam. It looked like it was somewhere in the mountains. Texas, Sam stuttered slowly, and added a name, then passed out. Dean put him in the back seat of his stolen SUV, googled the name and started to drive.

Dean’s nerves were raw, finding Sam hadn’t soothed him at all. He was hurt. So hurt. Pellegrino hadn’t left one visible spot on Sam’s body unharmed. If he hadn’t been so desperate to get Sam help, Dean would have pulled over and heaved every time he focused on Sam’s swollen, gory face.

His mate was dying, but Dean hadn’t come this far to let him go. Sam was going to be fine. Dean wouldn’t think of anything else.

**

Dean skidded into the packlands, barely remembering to throw the SUV into park before he leapt out and rushed to Sam. He eased him carefully out of the back seat, and started calling for help. Soon enough, he was surrounded.

He knew they were trying to help. He did. But his blood was still singing with the need to kill and it was everything he could do not to shift and decimate everyone that was too close to Sam.

“Back off!” he finally growled. “It’s taking everything I have not to kill you all just for being so close! I need help! Where is your healer?”

A heavy murmur spread through the assembled pack and it was clear that they’d recognized him as soon as he raised his head to yell at them.

“Now!” he snarled. “Where is your healer!”?

“This way,” one of the weres finally said. “He’s over here. Martha, run ahead and let him know we have an emergency and he needs to be prepared.”

Dean didn’t hesitate when he entered the healer’s. He kicked open doors until he found the healer who was frantically setting up a room. He carefully laid Sam on the bed, the darkening crust of his blood glaring against the stark white of the sheets.

The healer and his assistants immediately swarmed, carefully examining Sam and removing the scraps of clothing he had left. The healer nodded and they carefully lifted Sam more to his side so they could get some idea of the state of his back and legs. No matter how careful they were, it still caused Sam to cry out with the stress of being moved.

Without even a thought, Dean shifted and jumped onto the bed at Sam’s feet. He growled and snapped at the healer, who stepped back immediately, hands up.

“He’s gravely wounded,” the healer said, looking right at Dean. “You know this. You know I need to check on him and his wounds. You have got to let me do my job or he will die.”

Dean snarled.

“Let us do our job,” the healer repeated.

Dean shook his head, but bounded off the bed. He stayed back, but paced the perimeter of the room as they worked. Several people offered him food and drink or a place to go but he either snapped at them or ignored them completely.

Dusk was falling when they were done. Sam’s wounds were cleaned and bandaged and various IV drips hung at this bedside. It was up to fate, and Sam now. All Dean could do was wait.

One week later, Sam opened his eyes. Three days after that, he was able to move to an empty guest house on the grounds. He still couldn’t walk; could barely move as a matter of fact, but he was alive. Now all Dean had to do was wait for Sam to be safe and healing and then track down Pellegrino and rip his guts out through his snout.

**

Someone would not stop knocking on the door. Glaring at Sam, Dean strode over and flung the door open. The woman on the other side of it let out a not-so tiny shriek and stared warily at Dean for a moment.

Only when he looked rather pointedly at her and cocked an eyebrow did she manage to stammer out, “Is S-sam aw-wake? C-can I…”

“No,” Dean answered and moved to shut the door.

“Dean!”

Dean rolled his eyes and stepped to the side, impatiently waving her in. She entered the house, never taking her eyes off Dean, as if afraid of what he might do. Dean snorted and stalked back to the couch where Sam was lying. “You have a visitor.”

“Thanks so much, Dean, for being so hospitable.”

“You're welcome.”

Sam laughed, then grabbed his side. “Oww, stop being so funny. It hurts to laugh.”

Dean's face turned thunderous. “I'm leaving tomorrow.”

“Dean...”

“Tomorrow, Sam.”

“But, I nee--”

“Don't do that again, Sam, because you know I can't deny you when you say you need me here.”

“I know.”

“I need to find him, Sam. And I need to destroy him.”

“I know, Dean, I get it. I do. But he's mine to take care of. You know that.” Sam stiffly sat further upright. “Once I'm well...”

“I know, Sam. Once you're well, you're going to take him apart for what he did. I know. I know. But you're not going to be well for a long time, Sam, and every second that piece of shit lives is an insult to the were race.” Dean began to pace, running his hand over his hair and the back of his neck. “I get it, alright? It's your right to avenge yourself. I know what that feels like – the hollowness, the dark filled with just one thing – revenge. But I can't allow you that right now.”

“You can't _allow_ me...”

“Knock it off, Sam, you know damn well what I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean Dean. More of your alpha male bullshit. Well, guess what, Dean, I’m alpha too, and I’m not going to cower at your fucking feet just because you think I should.”

“You may be an alpha too, Sam but I am _your alpha_ , and you better get used to it!”

“The fuck! You wait until I'm better. We'll see who is who's alpha. You're just a big headed jerk! I swear to god, the universe really fucked this mating up. No fucking WAY I'll ever submit to you!”

“The fuck you won't! You...”

The sound of something dropping to the carpet pulled Sam and Dean's attention to their visitor. She was frozen halfway to picking up the casserole carrier that had slipped from her fingers.

“Problem?” Dean asked, silkily.

“Nope. No problem at all. Just… you know, c-clumsy. So, mates, huh? Wow. That's unbelievable. Just, wow. The Ghost and the Darkness, mates. That's… that's incredible.”

Dean, apparently done with that conversation, turned back to Sam. “I'm leaving tomorrow, Sam.”

“You pig-headed bastard. Don't deny me this, Dean! He's mine to kill!”

“No, Sam, he's mine! You get the whole idea of a mating right? You're mine. MINE. And that piece of shit took what was mine, tortured you, and was going to kill you!”

Sam dropped his head back against the arm of the sofa and yelled out in frustration. “I swear to god, Dean, I'm going to come off this couch and...”

“But that's the point, Sam! You can't come off that couch and do shit! It’s been weeks and you just now made it to where you could move to the couch at all! That asshole needs killing right now! I'm going to...”

A shrill whistle pierced the air. “You both have some serious issues. Damn. Look, you're not going to get anything done but arguing if you don't settle this. And you can't do that by constantly screaming at each other.” The beta drew a deep breath, nervous with both their eyes on her. “Sam, of course we understand why you say he is yours to kill, you were the one hurt…”

“Hurt? HURT?” Dean interrupted. “Look at him! He was _tortured_.”

The beta gulped, but went on, “… but you have to understand where Dean is coming from. No alpha can stand to see their mate hurt – you'd be the same way if it were Dean.”

Sam still looked mutinous but was listening. Dean looked positively vicious. “I'm going to kill him Sam. I'm sorry, but that's how it's going to be.”

“You don't get to tell me how it's going to be, Dean. Look, I get why you feel this way, I do. But he is _mine_ to kill Dean!”

“I can't wait that long, Sam. I won't!”

“The hell you won't Dean! Don't do this to m--”

The whistle again. “My god the alpha pheromones in this room are going to choke me to death. You both need to learn a little word called “compromise”.

Dean swung his gaze on the ballsy little beta currently taking him and Sam to task. “Excuse me? Who the fu--”

“Dean! Stop yelling at her!”

“Then Little Miss Buttinsky needs to hit the road! This is between us, Sam, not me, you and whoever the fuck she is!”

“Dean, I swear to god!”

“Fuck god, Sam, like seriously, what has he ever done for either one of us!”

“That's it!” The beta stomped over between Sam and Dean. “Knock this shit off right now! I swear, it's like watching teenagers that just got their knot fighting over who's is bigger.” The beta caught sight of Dean's face. “Jesus Christ you're intimidating,” she muttered. “Look, Dean, if you kill Pellegrino, Sam will never forgive you. Never. You will never have a life with your mate. Do you understand that?”

Dean unclenched his teeth, “Yes, but...”

“No buts,” the beta switched her eyes to Sam. “Sam. You will not be healed for a long time. Pellegrino could be god knows where by now, and by the time you get well enough to go after him? He could be on another continent by then.”

“So what do you suggest, o wise one?”

“Dean, why don't you go hunt for Pellegrino,” Sam started to protest, but the beta carried on, “but don't kill him Dean,” she stressed. “Bring him back here for Sam to take his revenge.”

The momentary look of triumph in Dean's eyes faded at the last bit. “But...”

“But, but, but... That's the only solution to this incredibly messed up situation and you both know it.”

“I'll never be able to get him back here alive. There's no way, I'm going to just...”

“What's more important Dean? Your mate or revenge?”

Dean growled and picked up the nearest thing he could find and heaved it through the window. Opening the door, he shifted and ran toward the woods.

Exhausted, Sam slumped down against the couch arm. “He'll fix that.”

“I know. Well, I just stopped by to check on you. I see you're tired. I'll get out of your hair.” Holding up the glass bowl she'd brought with her. “I brought a casserole for you. Luckily it didn't spill. There will be more coming. We know you're in no shape to cook and Dean, well… I'll put this in the kitchen with reheat instructions.”

By the time she came back from the kitchen, Sam was asleep.

**

Reactions to their mating were varied, of course, but hovered somewhere in the shock and doom range. Not that that was unexpected. A dark, mysterious alpha stronger than most mated to an alpha with questionable powers and the drive to change the world… what could possibly go wrong?

**

“What do you mean mates? They're both alphas!”

“Duh, honey. It's not unheard of, you know.”

“I know, but, Böxenwolf? And Ghost?”

“Yeah. Let that sink in for a moment.”

“Dear god.”

“Yep.”

“Böxenwolf...”

“Uh huh.”

“… and Ghost.”

“Mates, yes.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yep.”

**

“Wait, what? They're what?!?”

“M-A-T-E-S”

“But they're...”

“Yep. We’ve been over this like three times already.”

“I know, but...They’re...”

“Uh-huh.”

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

**

“Böxenwolf and the Ghost are mates.”

Slow, horrified blinking.

“That's pretty much what I said when I found out, too.”

**

“It's not… they can't…” Scoffing. “The universe would never let… I don't… Nah, it’s some kind of mistake. It couldn't happen. Right? Not really. I mean, there’s no way...” Jeff looked to his omega. “Right?”

Samantha ran her fingers through the Pack Alpha's hair. “We better get ready. I have the feeling things are never going to be the same again.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Hello, Jeff. Yeah, I felt them when they came in a few weeks ago.”

“Could you tell anything about Sam? Is he going to be alright? Any idea who did this?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I could feel the silver in his blood. It muddles things too much.”

“Böxen… Dean said he pulled our location from Sam’s mind. Is that possible?”

“Maybe. One of them is a seer. His aura is bright with it, but the dark one… It’s possible.”

“The dark one?”

“Dean. I see his aura, but I can’t get a read on him at all. He’s just – blank. I just don’t know.”

“Missouri?”

“Don’t worry about it, Jeff. Sam knows what he’s doing. If he brought Dean here, we should trust it. Is he conscious now?”

“He is. Dean wouldn’t let anyone near him at first. He shifted and almost attacked our healer, but Matt managed to calm him down enough to get him to let us help Sam. I’m still not convinced he’s not dangerous.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt he’s dangerous. I just don’t think he’s dangerous to us. Is whoever did that to Sam dead?”

“No, Barbara heard them fighting over Dean leaving to go after him when she went to visit yesterday. She’s how we know they’re mated. Dean wants to go after him, but Sam is determined to get his own revenge against the man who tortured him.”

“ _Tortured_ him?”

“That’s the word Barbara specifically used, yes.”

“This just keeps getting worse. Is Dean going?”

“They’ve worked out a plan. Dean will go after the man – Pellegrino, Barbara said – and bring him back for Sam to take care of. I don’t know how I feel about that. Pellegrino’s Alpha of one of the biggest packs in the state.”

“Any idea when Dean is leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“I'll go see Sam at lunch after he’s gone then.”

“I’m going to see what I can find out about Pellegrino and any pack he may be in. We’ve got to plan for any retribution once Pellegrino is dead. Thanks, Missouri.”

“Don't thank me yet, boy. You have no idea what I might find.”

**

The next day, Sam was staring warily at Missouri while eating the club sandwiches she'd brought for lunch. Wolves had excellent instincts and his were more honed than most. Something wasn't quite right about this visit, but he sensed nothing harmful and no ill will from his latest visitor.

“Need some more tea, Sam?”

“I'm good thanks. I'm trying to limit my caffeine until I'm healed up.”

“Ah, that's smart. That silver really took its toll on you, didn't it boy?”

“It sure did.” Silence. “So, Ms...”

“Call me Missouri.”

“Okay. So, Missouri...”

“I'm just here checking you out. What do you know about me, boy?”

“I know you're a seer. I could feel you when we came into town, faintly. Like someone poking around in my head. I was a bit out of it though, so I thought it was just too much blood loss or something until you got close to the house today.”

“I know you don't sense any evil from me boy, so just ask what you want to.”

Sam hesitated for a moment. “Why him?”

“I don't know. There's a darkness there I haven't seen before – some kind of energy...strong like I've never felt – like he's about two steps away from tearing this whole world down.”

“Great.”

“Pfft, don't take that tone with me boy, you're not exactly Nicky Normal now are you? I saw your aura before you even entered pack lands.”

“I...”

“Go on boy.”

“I know things. I can, manipulate things -” Sam hesitated. “People too, sometimes.”

Missouri nodded. “Well, damn.”

They finished their sandwiches in silence.

**

Sam bolted upright, terrible dreams forcing him awake. Something was coming. Something dark and dangerous. He scrambled for his phone.

“Missouri. Call Jeff and Sam. You need to get everyone inside, right away. Don’t upset anyone, just make up some excuse. Bad weather coming. I don’t know. Something’s headed this way and I don’t know what it is. Yeah, fast. I’m going to… I know, I know, but I need to know what it is. I know, but Dean isn’t here. Go, Missouri. Now.”

Sam stood at his door, his wounds marginally better, but still so painful. He had his favorite knife and gun and a couple things Dean had left him with, but whatever was heading their way felt more dangerous than anything Sam had encountered before. He could feel it getting closer, and it wasn’t long before he could tell it was headed right for the house he was in – it was off from the main pack by enough to be private for guests but close enough to be protected and near the pack.

At the sound of rustling in the underbrush, Sam stepped out onto the porch. Waiting.

A wolf was heading toward him. It was larger than most with dark fur and a powerful chest, heavy muscles shifting smoothly as it ran.

“Dean? Is that you?”

Dean shook himself and quickly shifted, eyeing Sam and the weapons he still held at attention. “Why are you up, Sam? And why are you out here with weapons?”

“I could sense something headed this way. But Dean, it was dark. So dark. How do I know...”?

“You think I haven’t heard about the darkness before?” Dean asked. “I’ve heard more than one seer tell me about my blackened soul. I would have thought after all this time you’d have seen it for yourself.”

“No, Dean, it wasn’t like that. I’ve seen the darkness in your heart before. This is… why are you here? Did you find Pellegrino? You better not have killed him!”

“He’s alive, Sammy. I dug him a nice grave to hold him while I came to check on you.”

“Is anyone with him? Dean, he could get out of whatever you put him in! He could...”

“Sammy. He’ll be there when I go back. I’ve tied him there with shade.”

“Shade? Dean, how do you know how to control shade? That’s fae magic. You shouldn’t even know how to call shade, much less use it to tie someone.”

“Let’s say a powerful fae owed me a favor and leave it at that.”

“Let’s not, Dean...”

“This is one thing all that darkness is good for. See, a lot of people get it wrong.” Dean grabbed Sam by the arm, coming up against his side to support him. “You don’t control shade, Sammy. You call shade and hope like hell it feels like doing what you want it to. It feeds off pain. Off anger. Off the darkness in a soul like mine. It likes me because I’m damaged in a way the fae rarely are.” Dean opened the door, gesturing for Sam to go through.

As Sam stepped forward, though, he could see strands of what had to be shade slithering around Dean. “Dean.”

“Go on, Sammy.”

Sam hesitated, transfixed by the writhing shadows steadily circling Dean. He took a step toward the house, but couldn’t go any further. Something about those dark tendrils was calling for Sam. He’d heard of shade. Seen what it could do. _He wanted._

“They want your pain, Sam.” Dean’s voice sounded strained. “They live off of it. Why do you think I can wield them?”

Sam stepped back to Dean.

“Go in the house, Sam.”

“I feel...” Sam hesitated, looking for the right words. “I feel drawn to them.”

“Because they want you, Sam. They want to take your pain. To feel it. To amplify it.”

“Dean.”

“We don’t have time for this, Sam.”

“Make time. Come inside with me.” Sam quietly lead Dean to the bedroom, then started undressing.

“Sam this is not...”

“Come, Dean.” Sam sank onto the bed, pulling Dean with him. “Let them go, Dean.”

“You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like. Once they get hold of you, they never let you go.”

“Let them go.”

Dean yelled out in frustration and slammed his fist into the headboard. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking.”

Dean snarled and grabbed Sam’s jaw in a punishing hold. “Fine. You think you want this? Let’s see. Only look at me, Sam. I mean it. Just me.”

Sam could feel the air over his chest grow thick, an oppressive weight settling over his breastbone.

“You said you saw my darkness, Sam, but you have no idea.”

Sam cried out as a razor sharp pain sliced through his chest. He could feel the shade sliding over his skin, dipping into the worst of his wounds.

“You don’t know, Sam. I know you’re a seer. I know what you try to hide from me. But I don’t care. I don’t care what you are. Because it can never be half as bad as what I carry around with me every day.”

The shade was surrounding Sam now. He could feel it pressing against him on all sides, searching out his pain, bringing him low, then shoving inside of him through his injuries. Dean’s fingers had never left his jaw, were clamping down harder, in fact, as Sam thrashed.

“Not killing Pellegrino was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, Sam. But I left him screaming none the less. I took his fingers for the sheer gall of touching you. Sealed up his wounds with shade. He’s still screaming.”

Sam moaned. His skin was on fire. His chest was full of bees. He could feel the shade running over the gashes in his skin, suckling on them, increasing his pain with every second.

“Shade will do anything I tell it to, Sam, will be anything I want it to be, because it likes my pain.”

Sam was shaking. He could barely breathe from the agony.

“Tell me to call them off, Sam. Tell them to go away.”

Sam just moaned.

Dean’s fingers left his face, sliding over the roiling shade and the slashes and burns on Sam’s skin. “Do you like this, Sammy? Could it be? Is this darkness, this pain what you need?”

Sam was choking on words, too wrapped up in the shade’s torment to get them out. If he could have, he would have been screaming.

“Why aren’t you telling me to stop, Sammy?” Dean slid his hands over Sam’s stomach and to his boxer briefs. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand, Sammy. I see you trying to scream, but your cock is hard. I see you shaking, but you’re not stopping me.” Dean lifted the edge of Sam’s boxers, and the shade shifted, a new target in sight. “Is this what you want, Sam?”

Sam could feel shade wrap around his cock and delve into his ass, no hesitation. His body convulsed like he’d been tased, lightning filling him up from the inside out, his skin crackling with it.

“Tell me to stop, Sam. I need you to tell me to stop.” Dean was pressed completely up against him now, his body a hard, sweltering line along his side. “We can’t do this now, Sammy. Tell them to go.”

Sam’s throat was closing up, and his tongue felt too big for his mouth. The only sounds he could make were little choking whimpers when what he wanted was to be screaming loud enough for the whole world to hear.

Dean did the screaming for him. “Tell me to stop, Sam! Say it now!”

“Make… Make it stop,” Sam whispered, only sheer will letting him get the words out. “Make them go.”

Dean could barely hear him, and his face was buried in Sam’s neck, but it was enough. Shade left his body, reluctantly, much slower than it had come over him. Sam could hear Dean muttering something, an incantation maybe, or a litany of meaningless words, Sam couldn’t tell. He couldn’t make sense of anything.

His pain was doubled even after the shade was gone. Sam was panting with it, his mind fuzzy and his cock still hard. His love of pain was nothing new to him. After Felicity had died, he’d _needed_ it – needed the punishment of it. But even when he’d let her go, let go of that terrible guilt, he’d kept pain close to him. There was almost always someone willing to hurt him when he needed it, and if there wasn’t, he’d take care of it himself. But this. He’d obviously underestimated his need to suffer – the _want_ of it.

“Dean,” he whispered, his voice as rough as if he’d actually been screaming. “Dean, please.”

Dean loomed above him, his face still but his eyes sad and haunted. “Why would you let me, Sammy? Why did you do that? What do you want from me, Sam?”

“P- Pain,” was Sam’s simple answer.

Dean cursed and spat words out that Sam couldn’t understand. Shade swarmed him again, lightning fast, circling his cock, his asshole, his balls. Sam screamed and screamed, especially when Dean reached through the shade to grasp Sam’s dick, jacking him roughly, only traces of his pre-cum slicking the way.

“Come, goddammit!” Dean demanded, his fingers fisted in Sam’s hair. “Now!”

Sam did, his body convulsing on the bed as Dean roped in the shade, dragging it from Sam’s battered body faster than before.

Sam was still screaming – screamed until he couldn’t any more, until there was nothing left in him but torment and pain. Dean held him through it, his voice hard and his hold unforgiving. It wasn’t long before Sam slept, too drained to do anything else. Dean watched him sleep.

“You’re going to kill us both,” Dean muttered. “But I’m going to take the whole world with us if I have to, Sammy. The whole goddamn world.”

**

Sam woke a few hours later, his pain not just back to previous levels, but significantly less than he’d had before his session with Dean’s shade. The silver had lain heavy in his skin. He could feel it like a leaden weight spreading through his muscles and veins. It would take weeks or even months for the silver to process through and leave his body and he would not heal completely until then.

When someone attacked a were with silver, that was usually what they were after – to put the were through as much suffering for as long as they could. Sam was lucky. He would have survived even this.

Something was different now, though. Weres had incredible sight, hearing and smell, but the silver had dampened that as well as everything else. But in the low light of the bedroom, Sam could tell his vision was sharper. He could hear rain pattering against the leaves outside and smell the stench of sweat and sex and fear still lingering in the room in a way he couldn’t before.

He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and he could hear Dean’s beside him. Dean. Sam looked over and was alarmed to see Dean’s chest rising and falling quickly and unevenly, Dean’s skin pale and ashen.

“Dean?” Sam reached out to touch him, but Dean flinched away from him with his whole body. “Dean!” Sam called louder. “What’s wrong? Dean!”

“Sil… Silver had to go somewhere, Sammy. I’ll be...” Dean swallowed thickly. “I’ll be fine in a few hours. Just give me a few hours.”

“Dean, what are you saying?”

“Shade. Fed off of you, took some of it from you. Came back to me. I need to rest, Sammy. Let me rest.”

Sam stayed quiet, but never left Dean’s side. Sure enough, as the hours wore on, Dean’s breathing smoothed out and slowed down. His skin gained color and warmth, and he was finally sleeping. Sam felt himself following as soon as he knew Dean was alright.

**

“Try to shift, Sammy. I don’t want that piece of shit anywhere near you until you’re well. I’ll keep him tied down out there until you’re ready.”

Sam stripped, and sent his focus inward. His wolf didn’t answer.

“I can’t yet.”

“Are you trying?”

“Of course I’m trying, Dean! Do you think I like being sick like this? Do you?”

“Try again.”

Sam closed his eyes and called his wolf again. _You know I’m much better now. We need to shift to finish the healing. Come on, we need this._ There was a swift, painful slashing across his mind that sent him flat on his back.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

“Not yet,” Sam breathed through the pain. “Maybe,” he paused, “maybe more shade...”

“No, Sam.” Dean cut him off. “I’m too weak for that right now and I don’t want you near shade any more than you have to be.”

“Dean...”

“I said no, Sam.”

“Later? When you’re strong enough? It _healed_ me, Dean.”

Dean dropped to his knees beside Sam, then crawled over his still prone body. He pushed his face close to Sam’s. “Don’t pretend that’s why you want shade, Sam. You were dying, slowly, minute by minute, dragged down by that silver. The son of a bitch that did it to you was lying in a grave waiting for me to hand deliver him to you for your revenge. But you wanted shade. Even when you knew I didn’t want to do it. You didn’t care about anything but the pain.”

Sam’s breath hitched and he was hyper aware of the press of Dean’s knees against his hips and Dean’s powerful arms framing his shoulders.

“You didn’t care about any of it, did you, Sam? You don’t even care what it does to me do you? You didn’t even know it would heal you. You just wanted to scream. Don’t worry, Sam. When this is over. When you’re healed. When we’re safe. I’ll make you scream like you’ve never screamed before.”

Sam’s cock was hard against his belly. Dean whispered against Sam’s neck – words Sam couldn’t understand any more when he had clarity than he could the night before. Lightning crackled over Sam’s skin, shade thinning and enveloping him and Dean in a roiling, living wave.

Sam could feel the hairs over his whole body standing on end, and his skin pebbled. “Dean, please.”

Dean whispered a little more, and Sam could barely breathe, shade tightening around him, his entire body surrounded by either shade or Dean. “I’m going to mate you, Sammy. I’m going to make you mine while you’re screaming. And you can’t do anything to stop me.”

Sam stiffened. “I will not submit to you, Böxenwolf!”

“I don’t need you to submit, Sammy. Not anymore. I just need to hear you scream.”

As the shade tightened more, slithering over his sides this time, Sam did just that.

**

“I’ve been to check on Pellegrino. He’s still contained, but we need to finish this, Sam. Keep trying to shift. I should be strong enough for you to use the shade tomorrow, but we need to get this done as soon as we can. I’m uneasy with him out there. I want him gone.”

“Okay, Dean.”

This time, Sam’s wolf stirred, a halfhearted stumble to its feet, but it collapsed before Sam could do more than grow fangs and claws.

“It’s alright, Sam. It’s alright. You’re getting there. Come on, sleep some more, I’ll fix you some lunch.”

**

Sam’s jaw was clenched, but shade ignored that and slipped between the cracks of his teeth, the blisters and wounds on his gums, the spaces where teeth should have been but had been knocked from their place. He felt it heavy on his tongue, oily and dank. It was all Sam could do not to vomit, sure if he did, he would merely choke to death on it, the shade completely unaffected.

“Stop it, Sam. You’re the one that wanted this. Let it in.”

Sam started to struggle as the shade pushed on, down his nose, into this throat.

“Sam! Settle!” Dean’s alpha voice did not, as he’d hope, cause Sam’s immediate compliance. But it did piss Sam off and, as he opened his mouth to scream at Dean, that had nearly the desired effect. Shade rushed into Sam’s body, through his mouth, his nose, his wounds, his ass. He was engulfed in a matter of moments, his body, at first, as stiff as death.

Dean hovered over him, watching. Suddenly, Sam gasped a mighty breath and roared, eyes open but blank, veins near to bursting from his skin. He began to buck as if he’d been struck by lightning and Dean pressed him back to the bed and held him there with a stiff, unbending arm.

It took mere minutes. Dean watched carefully, and could tell the very moment Sam’s wolf stood up and started to howl.

“Come on, Sammy. Send them away.”

The muscles in Sam’s body stiffened, his screaming transforming to a guttural scraping whine. His eyes shifted, tilting in his face, the kaleidoscope of colors shifting and bleeding to brown and blue and green. His nose broadened in his face and his jaw shrank and began to elongate. Dean could feel Sam’s chest broaden and deepen under his fingers.

Shade poured from Sam like rain.

“That’s it. Come on. Shift Sam,” Dean yelled at him, pushing against him, trying to make him angry. Partial shifts were dangerous, the wolf too close and the man too far, and if Sam didn’t either shift back or complete it immediately, he was in danger of sticking in his current form – a half beast with raw instincts and too much confusion. Dean drew back and punched Sam as hard as he could. “Shift, goddamn you!”

Sam’s eyes locked on him, and he bared his teeth. “That’s it, Sam,” Dean muttered. Sam’s fur started appearing and his limbs started to change, but it stopped again. Dean snarled and quickly shifted.

Sam’s wolf started growling, an ugly, harsh sound in Sam’s too human throat. Dean leaped on top of Sam and growled back, snapping his powerful jaws inches from Sam’s face. Sam’s growls smoothed and deepened, his body finishing the shift abruptly. Sam’s wolf quivered with rage, snarling and snapping at Dean. Sam still wasn’t well enough to hold it, though, and the next minute, there was skin between Dean’s paws, Sam fisting a hand hard in Dean’s fur before passing out.

Dean, exhausted and suffering with the pain the shade brought back to him, collapsed at Sam’s side.

**

Sam staggered to his feet the next morning, his wounds healing at the rapid rate they would have without the interference of silver. Dean was gray and still on the bed, his breath a little faster than normal and his skin warmer this time than it should be. Sam went to the bathroom and brought a cool washcloth with him when he came back. He bathed Dean’s skin, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.

Sam could feel his wolf in a way he hadn’t in weeks. Closing his eyes, he called the wolf and he stirred, curious. Sam hesitated for a moment, then began to shift. This time it went smoothly, and when Sam shifted back an hour later, some of his wounds were gone while others were vastly improved.

Dean was resting peacefully, wisps of shade cocooning him from time to time, causing him to frown in his sleep. Sam walked to the kitchen. Glancing at the phone he’d abandoned on the table, he noticed he had several missed messages and texts, most from Missouri. She’d sensed that the dark thing was Dean well enough, but had seen Sam’s pain these last few nights like exploding stars across her mind.

Sam texted her back, explaining he was fine and so was Dean, and that he was much improved. He told her not to ask how. She texted back a simple _‘Glad to hear it’_. Sam knew that wouldn’t be the last of it.

Sam spent the next few hours watching over Dean.

**

_They’re coming, Sam. They know where you are. Who you are. Run, Sam. Run!_

Sam bolted upright, scanning the room around him, quickly, his wolf close to his skin, ready. It was quiet, and Dean was just beginning to stir beside him. He hadn’t meant to fall back to sleep, but though he was much improved, he was still healing and the rest had done him good.

Slumping back against the pillows, he wondered. Was it a dream? Or was it a warning? Who was coming? Sam turned to face Dean, whispering. “Who did you bring back with you? Hmm? And what the hell are they bringing with them?”

Dean turned into Sam, flinging an arm around him, muttering. “Mate. Gotta get… mate.”

Sam wearily closed his eyes. Oh yeah. And there was _that_. They’d deal with that later. Sam had the feeling there was going to be much more important things to worry about than their erstwhile mateship. He was still sure it was a cosmic joke of a mistake, but it didn’t stop him from shifting closer to Dean and going back to sleep.

**

When Sam woke again, Dean was gone. There was a note on his pillow, though, one that Sam rolled over to read in the early morning light. Dean was going to check on Pellegrino. He wanted Sam to shift and stay in his wolf until Dean came back. Sam snarled a bit at being so thoughtlessly ordered around, but did it anyway because it was actually a good idea.

Sam went to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, not bothering to shower. He’d do so after he was done shifting. He found a barely cooled plate of food on the table and heated it up in the microwave and ate quickly, more anxious than he anticipated to spend some time in his wolf.

Wolves weren’t entirely instinct or feeling. There were plenty of people who hated weres because they thought them no better than the animals who shared their visages, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Shifting _was_ pure instinct, that was no lie, but once shifted, a wolf was not a mindless animal. When Sam called his wolf, it would answer and his body would change. His mind would not. It would sharpen, along with his sense of sight and smell, his hearing. Things he’d had trouble understanding would be clearer, his wolf able to see the threads that connected everything and everyone in the world in a way Sam’s human eyes could not.

When you travel through the world, you leave bits of yourself behind everywhere you go. Sam understood this, understood how wolves could track someone humans could never find. He used this to make sure he wasn’t followed and couldn’t be found. Except for Dean, but he understood now why that happened, a mate was an entirely different thing sure, but a mate with fae magic he wasn’t supposed to have? Sam didn’t wonder how he’d found him after he discovered that fact. Dean had moved far out of the realm of what could be expected from an ordinary wolf.

Wolves and humans were not separate entities. Sam didn’t replace his human with his wolf, so much as he merely shifted from one form to another. Any strengths, weaknesses or fears he had as a human, he’d have as a wolf. Sam was a fast runner, for example, and did so nearly every day before his capture. His wolf was the same, quickly outpacing and outlasting all but a few of his running partners.

He was tall, but lean, so his broad, muscled shoulders translated into a barrel chested but sleek wolf. Dean was a bit shorter, but more powerfully built. His wolf, the same. Hair and fur color were often complimentary, though not always. Sam’s fur was a rich chocolate color just like his hair, though Dean’s wolf was exceedingly dark – his fur shades of silver, gray and black. Sam wondered idly if that was another effect of Dean’s misplaced magic or perhaps the tragedy of his birth and mother’s death.

Sam knelt, finally out of mindless chores to distract him from his shift. He longed for the change, but was uneasy – still afraid he would not be able to shift without Dean there to force it, though he’d shifted just fine on his own since. It was not lost on him that he longed for Dean to be there nearly as much as he wanted his wolf. It made him even more uneasy, but, with a deep, steadying breath, he shifted.

The world sharpened. He could hear the worms and insects scurrying underground, the damp soil shifting and sliding as they dug their way through. He could hear the remnants of last night’s rain slipping down leaves to bend blades of grass with their ephemeral dripping weight. But what caught and kept his attention most was a deep, sibilant whisper he couldn’t place.

It made him uneasy, but he sensed no harm. He would think he had it pinpointed, but it would move, just out of his reach. His wolf twirled and twisted, following a thread with no end, no beginning. It looped in and around itself with no change. Eventually, it grew louder, closer, a final, definitive change in the sound and shape of it. He finally had a path and he followed it. Straight to Dean.

Dean’s wolf cocked his head, probably wondering how Sam found him, but he did not speak. Sam dipped his head and turned back to the clearing, Dean following behind.

_I followed the whispers to you._

_I see. Did you hear them clearly?_

_Yes and no. It’s not the bond._

_No, we have no bond as of yet. None to speak of, anyway._

_Is it the shade?_

_Maybe. It could be a combination of both of our magics. I don’t hear whispering, but a low, kind of sighing hum now that you’re in your wolf._

_I don’t have magic…_

_Sam, people don’t see the future without magic. I know that’s not all you can do, either. The shade tells me you are more powerful than I know. They tell me to be vigilant against you, though they don’t tell me why._

_I… I do sometimes see the future, but not very often._

_Is it usually right?_

_Yes._

_And your other gifts?_

Sam hesitated. He’d never told anyone but Missouri about this other gift. He wasn’t sure he wanted to add Dean to that very short list.

_Keep your secrets, Sam. However long you feel you need to. I won’t push you for them. How did the shift go?_

_Thank you. It went so well. I seem to be back in perfect health._

_And in your human form?_

_Almost fully healed. I still had a little trouble breathing before I shifted, and my leg was still a little tender, but I think maybe after this shift…_

_Maybe. Let’s go for a run. That should help you some more, too._

**

Sam nervously shifted back a couple hours later. He and Dean had run and run, then hunted for their lunch, finding and taking down a small deer. Sam took to the hunt like he’d not been in years, when in reality, it had only been a few weeks. Dean let him do most of the work, watching, always watching. Sam could feel him evaluating, and strove to give him a show of his prowess.

It was only after Sam approached Dean, bits of carcass in his teeth – an offering – that it occurred to Sam what he was doing. Dean woofed at him to lay the food down but Sam had already dropped it and stomped back to the deer. He’d been offering Dean food like they were… were… courting or something. Sam was inwardly screaming. He might be loath to mate Dean, but apparently, his wolf was all for it.

Maybe it was because they’d been sharing a bed lately – and when exactly did that become the way of things anyway? Sure, Dean had rested there after their forays with shade, but that was only out of necessity. It was never meant to be from then on. Maybe things were getting muddled in his head. He would tell Dean to go back to his own room tonight. Maybe that would clear things up for his wolf. Yeah. That was the plan.

**

Barbara hadn’t been back to the guest cottage since her fateful visit not long after Sam and Dean had appeared. She had been shocked to her core to discover that Sam’s guest was none other than Böxenwolf. When she’d found out they were mated? Oh, she told everyone she knew – starting with the Alpha, of course.

Her best friend was in Houston, though, meeting with some of the biggest packs in Texas. Everyone had heard of the changes that were slowly being made to pack life across the country, and how the way alphas saw and treated omegas was shifting, and the packs were excited to share what they’d learned, what they were doing in their own packs and what they wanted their part of the emerging society to be.

Their pack, the Austin pack, was growing at a much quicker rate than any other pack in the state, and after the summit in Houston, each pack sent envoys to visit the other packs. They decided to visit Austin pack first to see what it was about them that had increased their growth so quickly.

They obviously couldn’t admit that The Ghost was saving weres – mostly much needed omegas – and bringing them to the pack to shelter and heal, but they could show them the day to day snapshots of life that made these saved weres want to stay. Barbara had never been more proud of her pack than she was right now.

The pack shifted and moved things around to make room for the people coming, excited to share and to learn. Dallas pack seemed less happy to be there than people from the other packs. Dallas pack had always been a bit more leery of changing the more archaic rules. They clung more closely to the old ways and were slower to approve specific changes to their charter.

Barbara, and some of the other members of her pack, had noticed that of all the people who had come to stay, the Dallas envoy seemed the least interested in their daily lives. There was some chatter about the fact they didn’t really want to join the other packs at all, but felt if they didn’t, it would decrease their standing with the rest of the packs.

When one of their representatives left early explaining he’d received word from his family, he was needed, no one thought anything about it. No one connected it to Barbara’s gossip to her best friend about Sam and the dark, motherless were he was mated to. They would soon enough.

**

Missouri was a patient person. When you could read minds and selectively see the future, you could afford to let time shift through things on its own. But when Sam had called her in a panic, telling her to get everyone inside, she’d been a bit concerned.

She’d sent her sight out, casting a net of clairvoyance to see what she could see. All she felt was darkness. Not a feeling like the dark one – no this was something else, she thought. This was something roiling and constantly changing. This was magic. Something that wasn’t wielded so much as it was set free with the hope that nothing too bad would happen.

She’d seen it run right up to Sam’s door, had seen Sam greet it and welcome it. It was the dark one after all. Her heart had sunk clear into her stomach. She hadn’t thought him evil, not really, just someone with the capacity to bring the world as she knew it to its knees. Minutes later, the screaming started, and she was halfway to the house at a dead run when it hit her it wasn’t unwanted.

She stopped abruptly, and nodded to some of the people coming out onto the street, some shifted, others with weapons. She shook her head, shooing them back into their houses, reassuring them it was okay.

It wasn’t okay, though. Not just anyone could take on that kind of magic and pain because they wanted it. She could feel the dark one’s distress like a fist in the gut. He didn’t want what was happening, but Sam wasn’t giving him a choice. Neither of them were happy, but Sam, oh Sam was satisfied well enough. She could see his aura change color more and more every moment.

From the time Sam had neared the pack lands, Missouri had seen his aura – a mass of dark, stagnant red, muddy grays and sickly yellows. When the screaming started, flashes of green swirled through the mess of his aura, twirling with blacks and oranges, the tinge of sexual desire wrapped around the destruction and healing so closely their edges were indistinguishable.

As their sessions (and the screaming) continued, Sam’s aura cleared – the bright royal blue of his clairvoyance became brighter, the reds of anger stayed but became lighter, while the orange red of desire pulsed sharply throughout.

Missouri could track the dark one coming and going, his aura smaller, darker, so muddled it was nothing but grays. She was glad, so glad, that Sam was healing, growing, changing. But she was terrified what it was that had changed him, what he was changing into.

It wasn’t her place to counsel him. Lord knows it wasn’t her place to say anything to him at all. This was the Ghost. He’d slipped into and out of situations no one else could have lived through, and would never have been caught if they’d sent anyone but Böxenwolf after him. She knew he wasn’t weak. He’d done what was necessary for the world to begin to change – things too ugly for most people to even consider.

And she’d seen the orange pulsing through his aura even when he was dying – a pulse perfectly tuned to his heartbeat. It was the orange of someone who could control other people. She’d had no idea the extent of his control, but now that she did, it made it even more ludicrous that she was worried about Sam being pressured to do anything.

But the darkness. She couldn’t get past that darkness. She’d never seen a soul so black, and she didn’t understand how Dean wasn’t destroying everything he came into contact with.

And the magic.

There wasn’t a lot that scared Missouri in her lifetime, but she was terrified. She had no idea how, but she knew nothing would be the same ever again. Her dreams told her that much. She just wished she could see the absolute destruction a little more clearly. If she could just see -

She cut herself off. She knew how the sight was. There was never a guarantee of anything. It was still something Jeff needed to know, they all needed to know.

Picking up her phone, she dialed quickly. “Jeff. I need to talk to you. Yeah, it’s important. No, as soon as possible.”

She dropped the phone and stepped out onto her porch. She could see Sam and Dean running through the packlands, heading toward the house they temporarily shared. She was glad Sam was healed. She could only hope it was enough to face what was coming.

God save them all.

**

Jeff knew Missouri wasn’t one for unnecessary hysterics, and he was also well aware of what was going on in the guest house at the end of the clearing – and who was doing it. He’d been as concerned as anyone when the screaming started, but Missouri had told him there was nothing to worry about, and he believed her. He shuddered as he remembered the sound of it, but he trusted Missouri and her visions.

Jeff finished up what he was doing and waited for Missouri. He was uneasy. It hadn’t sounded like she had good news.

Half an hour later, Jeff had filled her in on what he’d learned of Pellegrino and his pack – their adherence to the old ways, their size, Pellegrino’s vendetta against Sam for his daughter’s death. Missouri had told her about her dreams in return.

“Have they killed him yet?”

“I don’t think so, no. I can still sense him somewhere outside of packlands.”

“Maybe we could talk them out of it.”

Missouri snorted. “He had the nerve to kidnap _and torture_ Böxenwolf’s mate – in the middle of their mating challenge. You remember his mate, right? The Ghost?”

Jeff just sighed. “I know. I know. And yes, his murder is their right, but...” Jeff stood up abruptly. “I can’t help but wish he’d brought Sam somewhere else.”

Samantha put her hands on Jeff’s tense back. “Do you really? Would you have wanted Sam to die somewhere away from the closest thing to family he’s known in decades?”

“He would have lived just the same,” Jeff tried.

“Are you so sure of that? Have you suddenly developed the sight yourself, dear husband?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“And you know how fate works.”

“Yes, yes,” Jeff answered Missouri impatiently. “In mysterious ways. I know.”

“Boy, don’t forget I used to take my wooden spoon to your behind and I will do it again if you keep it up.”

“You’ll excuse me, Missouri, I’m just a little worried about my pack.”

“Then worry about _all_ of your pack.”

“Sam is not pack. His allegiance still belongs in San Antonio pack. He’s only here because...”

“He’s only here because you promised him a home anytime he needed it. Are you honestly going to abandon him now when he needs you the most?’

“He has Böxenwolf. How much do you honestly think he’s going to need us?”

“He came here didn’t he?”

“Yeah, he came here and we took him in. But now, maybe it’s time for them to go.”

“Jeff, don’t do this.”

“I can’t risk everyone for one person, Samantha. I won’t. We have more pups now than we’ve ever had. Our future has never looked better. Do you really want to see that future broken and crumpled at our feet?”

“Maybe you should remember exactly who it was that made this wonderful future for you in the first place.” Dean’s voice was smooth and low, but his eyes were blazing.

“Dean...”

“Do you think you’d have all those pups if it weren’t for Sam? No,” Dean cut off their attempts to speak. “You wouldn’t. You’d be nothing but another pitiful pack trying to scratch out a meager existence on a dying piece of land. Did you forget, _Jeff_ ,” Dean spat Jeff’s name as he approached him, “that you wouldn’t have half the omegas you have now if Sam hadn’t saved them and brought them to you?”

“Stand down.”

“Fuck you, _Jeff_.” Jeff encouraged people to call him by his name instead of Alpha, but everyone knew who he was and they treated him with respect. The way Dean ground out his name made it clear he had none for the older leader. “I was just coming to let you know that Sam and I were thinking of moving out after we take care of Pellegrino. To thank you for what you did to help save Sam’s life. To warn you about some things Sam had seen.

“But fuck you all. After everything Sam has done for weres, for _your pack_ in particular, you’d turn your back on him? Just like that.” Dean shook his head, disgust plain on his face. “You were right about one thing. Sam _doesn’t_ need you. He’s stronger than you even when he was pumped full of silver and dying. The last thing he would need was _friends_ like you.”

Missouri reached out for Dean as he walked away. “Dean.”

Dean turned his head toward her, his fists clenching at his side, the muscles in his back shifting, shifting, shifting. “I won’t tell Sam what I heard here today. He loves all of you. He thinks you love him, too. I won’t have him hurt. We’ll be gone by the middle of the week.”

He didn’t slam the door on the way out, but the devastation in his wake was not diminished for it.

“You’re a fool, Jeff Morgan. A fool!” Missouri spat as she went to leave.

“I will not sacrifice my pack,” Jeff bellowed!

“You already have,” Samantha murmured from behind them. “You forgot where they came from. You forgot the gift your pack really is.”

Jeff stood mutinous in the middle of the floor. Samantha and Missouri turned to leave.

“You might be the Alpha of this pack, Jeff,” Samantha said, “but you forget that’s it’s because we allow it.”

**

“Sam. Ready for me to bring Pellegrino to you?”

Sam took a deep breath. He was strong again. He’d almost healed completely. Plus, he didn’t think that cutting his fingers off was as far as Dean had gone. Sam had told him not to kill him, after all, but hadn’t specified anything else. If there was anything about Dean that Sam knew at this point, it was how he took great liberty when he felt like it.

“Yeah. I want to see him.”

“I’ll be back in a few. “

Jeff saw Dean leave, and, drunk and angry, he decided to follow him into the woods. If he could follow him to Pellegrino, then kill Dean and let Pellegrino go, nothing would happen. It would be alright. The pack would be fine.

 _You can’t kill Böxenwolf, you fool._ He’s just an alpha. I’m pack Alpha. I can kill him. I can.

He wasn’t even quiet as he followed Dean, knowing there was no way he could hide from such a skilled tracker. He could tell by the way Dean’s ears twitched and how he stopped for a moment on the path that Dean had caught his scent. He followed Dean to a small clearing.

“What are you doing, Jeff?”

“If one of you kills Pellegrino, you’re going to start a war with his pack. He’s a pack Alpha, Dean. It’s not like he can just disappear.”

“We are well within our rights to kill him after what he did to my mate. There’s not a pack council in any state that would convict either one of us.”

“And there’s not any pack council that will stop his pack from coming in and trying to take over mine afterwards for revenge, either! I won’t allow that, Dean!”

“Go home, Jeff.”

“No, I’m going to stop you.”

“You can’t stop me! You’re drunk, you’re stupid and you’re slow. And you know what else? I have magic, Jeff. Magic that will help me guarantee that if you make a move toward me it will be the last one you ever make.”

Jeff shifted immediately at the threat, growling.

Dean didn’t even flinch. Jeff’s wolf howled at the insult.

“Look, I get it Jeff. I do. You’re trying to keep your people safe. But don’t forget who it was who gave you those people to begin with.” Dean strode right over to Jeff, and looked right into his glowing eyes. “I would never allow anything to happen to my mate.”

Jeff was still growling low in his chest.

“Don’t mistake me. Be one hundred percent clear about this one thing, if nothing else. I would take on a thousand packs at once to keep my mate safe. Killing you wouldn’t even cost me one minute of sleep.”

Jeff started snarling and snapping his jaws.

“I wouldn’t even look back at your body after I’d ripped your head off your neck. You, and pretty much everyone else in your pack, mean nothing to me. Less than nothing. The only thing that’s kept you alive this long is the fact that Sam loves you and yours. To me, you’re tinder. Do you understand? The way I feel about you now, I’d burn this entire pack land to the ground and never think of it again.”

Dean turned his back on Jeff – proof of how little of a threat he really was. “Go home and get sober, and consider this: your pathetic little pack is only protected as long as Sam is in it. You might think twice about who it is you’re trying to run off. Leave now and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

Jeff might be drunk and he might be stupid, but he honestly wasn’t suicidal. With one last growl, he turned and ran back toward the pack. His wife was waiting for him on the porch when he came back.

“Where were you?”

“I went for a run, that’s all.”

“Hmm. I noticed Dean was out for a run, too.”

“I wanted to kill him, alright? I thought I’d let Pellegrino go and kill Dean and none of this had to matter.”

“Since when are you a coward, Jeff?”

“Excuse me?” Jeff whirled on his wife.

“You’re a coward. Hiding from a fight that you don’t even know is going to come!”

“Oh, it will come! It will come and it will spread until there won’t be any pack in the state left untouched.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pellegrino is a big man, Samantha. He’s got influence in places you don’t even realize! People are not going to be happy that he’s dead! And they’re going to find out where he died and who killed him and they’re going to find out that we’re the ones that let them do it! What do you think is going to happen to us, Sam? Huh? What do you think is going to happen?” Jeff was screaming in Samantha’s face at this point.

“You think you’re going to lose your pack, is that it?”

“Yes!”

“I hate to break it to you Jeff, you’re doing that well enough on your own.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re running scared from something we don’t even _know_ would happen. You’re turning your back on one of our own because you’re afraid. You’re not just scared, you’re a coward. A pack can’t afford to have a coward as a leader. If you push this, Jeff.” Samantha walked over to him and grabbed his chin, forcing him to stare right at her. “If you push this, I will convene the pack elders. You really will lose the pack.” Samantha let him go and stepped back. “I’ll give you until tomorrow to make up your mind.”

Jeff screamed in frustration, slamming his fist repeatedly into the siding of the house.

“Don’t make me do it, Jeff,” Samantha said, voice small and sorrowful. “Don’t lose the pack.”

“There’s no way to avoid that,” he whispered as she walked away. “It’s already gone.”


	3. Chapter 3

Sam shifted, then shifted back. Then shifted again. He couldn’t decide if he should just shift to his wolf and kill Pellegrino immediately, or talk to him first. Oh, he’d planned Pellegrino’s death out in his head enough times, it wasn’t that. As he lay on the couch after Dean had to carry him to it, after Dean had toted him back to bed, after he’d had to choose whether to pee in a fucking hospital container just to cut down on the number of times Dean had to carry him around. Yeah, he’d planned it out in shining, gory detail. But now, the reality of the situation was sinking in, hard.

Mark Pellegrino was not a good man. He wasn’t a horrible man, but he wasn’t a good one. He was selfish and conniving and would talk to one man about the importance of omega rights then turn to another a second later and agree that a broken omega was the only good omega. Sam had been shocked to learn from the network of people he’d worked with that Pellegrino wasn’t just on the list of problem pack leaders, he was near the top.

Sam had no illusions about what kind of man he was, either. Sam was a murderer. Even doing it for honorable reasons would never make that untrue. There were a lot of discussions about what was murder when it came to politics. If it was your job, it wasn’t murder. Everyone knew that.

But Sam knew that was nothing but people trying their best to sleep at night. It’s one thing to kill or order someone to kill with righteousness burning bright at your side. It’s another to delve down deep into things and realize that, at the end of the day, there’s at least one less person in the world – just because someone else didn’t agree with them.

In the past, betas and omegas had never been subjugated in pack life. Different weres had different hierarchies, of course – werecats tended to choose leaders purely by might, for example. If an omega was strong enough to defeat the other werecats, there would be no question about their rule. Lycanthropes were more interested in the class of a were and used those as a guide to not only where they fit in pack life, but also what kind role they would play, as well.

Weres had been in existence since the advent of life, but the ease with which they lived with other life had changed immensely from age to age. Humans were fickle and dangerous when they were scared and, rather like wild animals, would either run in fear or seek to attack anything that scared them – and the very idea of weres terrified them.

Through the ages, story after story was created about how weres were _made_. Ancient stories of mixing and eating wolf and human meat, being cursed or even just sleeping under the full moon on a Friday or being born under a new moon flourished as humans let hysteria win instead of simply 

trying to understand other forms of life.

Bloody battles were fought between weres and humans, then among weres themselves as it became clear they would have to struggle to ever find a place in a world that was more theirs than the ridiculous humans, anyway. Eventually, humans saw reason, somewhat, and realized that not only were weres real, they weren’t going anywhere. There would never be a world without weres in it.

Humans were hateful things, even now, their hatred of even their own kind was unparalleled in the world. But they’d settled into their place on the world scale fairly well, and in general, treated weres as well as they did their more human counterparts. Weres didn’t interfere in human life, and humans left weres to their own devices. They were no longer terrified.

But wars leave scars. Not just on the land itself – great wounds on the earth that would stay for generations – the _world_ fundamentally changed. That much fighting, that much time spent soaked in blood, that much death, it left scars on more than flesh. The people who experience it are forever changed – their skin ragged, their souls bruised, their eyes tired of seeing death. They are no longer kind just for kindness’ sake. They’ve learned the hard way that there is no place for such in a war, and most carry that through in their life after – if they have one.

Other weres are different, yes, but they understand how to fight weres in a way that humans could not fundamentally comprehend. They understood that the easiest way to win was to make sure that the other weres no longer flourished. While humans struck force for force looking to dominate, other weres sought decimation. They struck strength for strength, but chose not to limit themselves to one area of attack. You stop the immediate threat, but then you make sure there is no future, either.

One thing was always true with weres – betas and omegas were the literal lives of packs. They determined both the growth of packs and how strong they would be after. In war, weres worked to destroy as many of these life bringers as they could. In response, the wolves began protecting them – sequestering them away in places that were impossible for other weres to find instead of letting them fight. When wars went on longer than expected, many omegas died when supplies ran low, when there was no health care and no one to help them through their heats and pregnancies.

Once the wars had ended, wolves found their number of omegas had indeed been decimated. The devastation had swept through every pack, no matter how hard they’d tried to keep them safe. Anger at the war turned inward and omegas who had once been respected and beloved were suddenly forced to carry children for people they did not care for – in some cases, didn’t even know. Betas rose up, trying to stop what they were seeing, but bone tired of fighting, alphas put them down before another war could start.

Before long, omegas were nothing but property to be used as an alpha saw fit. They were not the lauded warriors and life bringers of the past. They were incubators and nothing more. Betas turned a blind eye because they had to. Alphas rose, corrupted by their power over an entire gender of people. Omegas suffered and died because they no longer mattered.

Generation after generation accepted what must be. Until now. Children were growing up in a world more fully integrated than any other world in their history. They would see werecat omega mothers standing tall and beautiful as they dropped off their children before work or their daily run in the park, human mothers rushing around in business suits and high shoes, children talking about loving families where no one was less than anyone else. They noticed.

And they decided it was time for a change.

Sam was part of that change. Had made it his life’s work. He had a lot of kills under his belt for this war on the past, this fight for omega freedom – and he counted Felicity’s among them. But that didn’t stop him from fighting. Pellegrino’s future was always to be a casualty of this war, but now he was as much a casualty to his own daughter’s death.

Sam understood his hatred. He did. But Sam couldn’t afford to let him go, and the way Pellegrino ran his pack, Sam would have been sent after him eventually, anyway.

It didn’t stop him from thinking about maybe not killing him at all. It was a passing thought, really, at best. Even if he had found some way to forgive an old man his madness, to let him live until he was inevitably set after him, Dean would never let that stand.

Their mating may yet be some kind of mistake, but even Sam in all his fury couldn’t deny the tug he felt deep in his gut toward the man they called Böxenwolf. He had always assumed he would never mate. His life wasn’t one to be shared. No beta or omega was going to be happy with a mate that was always gone, that spent too much of their life, their soul saving others. He wasn’t sure he’d have enough left for anyone else’s happiness. He barely had any left for his own.

He had to admit that if anyone could understand his life’s work, it would be Dean. He wasn’t sure, exactly, why he was so so adamant from the beginning that Dean was not his mate. Mating between same genders was not unusual, though alpha pairs were generally fractious until they were able to bend their usually dominant personalities into something compatible with each other. It didn’t always work.

Sam tried to imagine himself in turn dominating Dean then being dominated. He had trouble with both. He knew Dean was just as shocked by the universe’s choice of mate, but Dean had seemed to adjust to it rather seamlessly. It was just something else that annoyed Sam. Ah, well. They’d work it out eventually, he supposed.

**

It wasn’t but a few minutes later that Sam heard rustling in the brush, though it seemed to be coming from the center of the pack lands, and he couldn’t see Dean dragging Pellegrino bloody and dripping of shade through the town square. A moment later, Jeff broke through the light bushes and trees that surrounded the guest cottage.

“Hey, Jeff. How you doing? I haven’t seen you much lately.”

“Sam,” Jeff acknowledged, his back stiff and his manner uneasy in a way Sam had never seen before. “Dean gone?”

“He is. He went to get Pellegrino. He’ll be a while yet.”

“I need to talk to you, Sam.”

“What did Dean do?”

“Before or after he threatened to kill me?” Jeff snorted.

“What?! When did that happen? I swear I’m going to kill him. I can’t believe...”

“No, Sam, no. He was… he was protecting you.”

Sam stopped his angry pacing and looked at Jeff. “What do you mean he was protecting me?”

“I used to think I was an honorable man,” Jeff started.

“What? Of course you are. You took me in when most people would have turned me away! You are...”

“I’m not, Sam. Listen to me.”

“What’s going on Jeff?”

“I’m stepping down as pack Alpha.”

“What? Why?”

“When Dean brought you here, all I could think about was making sure you were alright. Then we found out you were mates. That made me even more worried for you. He’s… he’s cold. Mean. No, that’s not right. He doesn’t care enough to be mean. Not really. I was worried about you.”

“Then I found out it was Pellegrino that attacked you and why. The same day I found out the delegates were coming. Sam, I...” Jeff paused. “I started to worry. For the pack. For my reputation. You know what could happen when they find out Pellegrino is dead. I’ve already heard rumblings...” Jeff was silent.

“What did you do, Jeff?”

“Nothing. I didn’t _do_ anything.” Jeff started pacing. “Missouri came to talk about some things she’d seen. I told her and Samantha that...”

“What did you tell them, Jeff?”

“That you should let Pellegrino go. That maybe we should...kill Dean. That you should leave.”

Sam turned his back to hide his reaction. He’d thought of Jeff as a close and trusted uncle, a fierce, respectable leader.

“I said I wanted to protect the pack, but I just didn’t want to lose the praise, I think, if I’m honest.”

“Is there anything else?” Sam bit out.

“Dean heard me say those things. He was pissed. He said he didn’t want you to know. That you lov… loved us and he didn’t want you hurt. I followed him into the woods the other day. I thought maybe I’d try to kill him. He threatened me. Sent me back to pack lands with my tail between my legs. I...”

Sam couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Samantha met me when I got back. Asked me where I’d been. She threatened to convene the pack council. To have me removed.”

Sam gasped, shocked.

“She was right to. It’s like Dean said. I forgot what made us such a strong pack to begin with. I forgot where we’d be now if you never brought us those weres to care for, to love. Samantha said our pack was a gift, and I dishonored it. I was afraid, and I reacted like a coward. I’m sorry Sam.” Jeff swallowed thickly, his throat clicking. “I do love you like family, I just… I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Sam didn’t respond.

“You’re welcome here, Sam. Always. Dean too, if you stick it out. No matter what happens, you’ll always have a place here. I’ll make sure the new Alpha knows that.”

“Are you really going to step down?”

“A good pack leader isn’t a coward, Sam. And he isn’t selfish. I’ve proven myself both. I just hope one of these days you can forgive me.”

Dean’s wolf ran up in that moment, shifting seamlessly to human right in front of Sam. “Sam? What’s wrong?” He turned to Jeff. “What did you do?” He snarled, prepared to lunge at the older man.

Sam grabbed his shoulder. “He told me what happened, Dean. What he said and did.”

“All of it?”

“Yeah. He’s stepping down as pack Alpha.”

“Good. Packs are no good when they’re run by fools.”

Jeff merely nodded, his jaw ticking as he gritted his teeth.

“So are you done? Sammy and I have things to do.”

“Yeah. I’m done.” Jeff reached out as if to clap Sam on the shoulder, their traditional goodbye hug. Dean growled low in his throat. Sam didn’t stop him.

Jeff nodded and headed back to the pack.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“I don’t know. Where’s Pellegrino?”

“Not far. The closer I got to the house, the more I felt like you were in trouble. Like there was something wrong. I stashed him again, shifted and ran to see for myself.”

“I thought of him like family.”

“And he felt the same. He was just blinded for a minute. Blinded by greed and cowardice. It didn’t have anything to do with you, Sammy.”

“It’s Sam, and it had everything to do with me. If I’d never been born the whole thing with Felicity would have never happened and I wouldn’t have to kill him.” Sam started pacing. “You know, Jeff was right about at least one part.”

Dean started growling again.

“No, listen to me. Pellegrino is an important man. I probably would have been tapped to kill him sooner or later anyway. His pack couldn’t have done much against The Ghost, you know? They’d have sent someone after me for a little while, then just carried on. But this is different. We’re murdering a deranged father, not a businessman with no scruples.”

“I will not let him live, Sammy.”

“I know you won’t. And I’m not saying we should. What I’m saying is killing him will have repercussions that will spread through the entire state. It’s not like we can hide the body and pretend like we never saw him. Too many people know the truth for that. They’ll find out who did it and why. And they’ll come for us.” Sam whirled to face Dean, his pacing stilled.

“What if they do attack, Dean? What if they do destroy the pack? I can’t live with that, Dean. I won’t.”

“Look, Sam. You don’t think I’ve considered every angle of what could happen here? Of course I have. Things are going to change once we kill Pellegrino. One way or another, things will not be the same. People _will_ come. I have no doubt about that.” Dean grabbed Sam by the arms. “At first I told Jeff we were leaving. But after he came after me, I told him that he was only safe as long as you were here. I was threatening him, but it’s the truth.”

“How so?”

“They will come, Sammy. This pack will die if we aren’t here.”

“But if we leave...”

“You know that won’t make any difference, Sam. They sweep through here and kill everyone they can just to prove a point.”

“So what do you expect us to do, Dean?”

“We kill Pellegrino and send his body back to his pack with a message. We explain what happened and why. And then we wait.” Dean paused for a moment. “And then we fight.”

Sam was quiet for a long time. “Alright,” he answered, voice firm. “Alright. We fight.”

“It will all work out, Sam, I’m telling you. You’ll see.”

Sam’s almost forgotten dream suddenly flashed into his mind. “I had a vision. I think. Or a dream. I’m not sure which.”

Dean looked at him, wary. “What was it about?”

“I don’t know, exactly. Just… there was a lot of fighting. People dying everywhere. But that wasn’t really the main part.”

“What was?”

“Something kept whispering in my head, over and over. _They’re coming, Sam. They know where you are. Who you are. Run, Sam. Run!”_

“It has to be Pellegrino’s pack. Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“I didn’t know if it was a dream or a vision at first. It didn’t make sense. I couldn’t imagine who they were.”

“It might be nothing, Sam. Don’t worry about it. We’ll take care of this, okay? I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, Dean.”

“You’re my mate. I’d do anything to keep you safe. I can wholeheartedly promise you that.”

Sam sighed. “Whatever you say, Böxenwolf.”

Dean snorted, then quickly turned serious again. “I’m not going to rush you, Sam. You’ve just gotten hit with some heavy stuff. If you want to hold off on Pellegrino, I have no problem with that. I’ll go right back out there, secure him a little better and we’ll handle it whenever you’re ready.”

Sam thought about it for a bit. “I can’t do it today. Not after all this.”

“Alright Sam. It’s alright.”

“I need today to think. To figure out what we’re going to do. What we’ll need.”

“Anything you need, Sam.”

“Anything?”

“Of course. You’re my mate.”

“I need shade.”

“Sam...”

“You said anything.”

Dean carded his hand roughly through his hair. “Tell me why, Sam.”

“I like how it makes me feel.”

“You like how it makes you feel? That’s all you have to say to me?”

“I can’t be any more clear than that, Dean. What else do you want from me?”

“I don’t know, a reason maybe?”

“I don’t have a reason. I just like pain.”

Dean was shaking his head, but Sam cut him off.

“You can say no to me, Dean, but I’ll just learn those incantations or whatever they are myself. Find myself a fae and get some shade of my own.”

“You have no idea what it’s like, Sam. You can _not_ do that.”

“You seem fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not fine, Sam! That’s the only reason I can actually wield shade like this!” Dean reached out for Sam. “What is wrong with you? Why would you want this… this curse?”

“I don’t know how else to explain it to you, Dean. I can’t say anything else but what I already have. I like the pain.”

“Did something happen to you? Were you...” Dean paused for a moment. “Were you abused in some way?”

“No, Dean. It’s not like that.” Sam stopped and just looked at Dean. “We study you, you know.”

“What?” Dean was confused by the seemingly sudden change in subject.

“When they train us to fight. To kill. They show us the only footage of you fighting they have. It’s not much but… I’ve seen you, Dean.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Two reasons really. One to show us how to really fight. Another is so we can be as prepared as possible if we ever have to face you.”

“I… Have I ever killed one of you?”

“The people working with the revolution you mean?”

Dean nodded.

“Yeah. A couple.” Sam watched as the muscles bunched and released in Dean’s jaw. “We all know the deal when we take this on, Dean. Every one of us knows there’s a pretty good chance that we won’t make it out alive.”

Dean started up a low growl Sam wasn’t even sure he knew he was doing.

“You can’t have revolution without blood, Dean. Lots and lots of blood. Not all of it can be the bad guys’ unfortunately.” Sam could practically see Dean’s wolf rolling underneath his skin, angered at the thought of anyone shedding his mate’s blood.

“You must stop this at once, then. You’ve done enough already for the cause.”

“You know that’s not going to happen, Dean.”

“I will not stand by while you get hurt or die, Sam! You cannot ask that of your mate!”

“And you can’t ask your mate to give up something he loves.”

Dean cursed.

“I guess you’re just going to have to join me,” Sam tried.

“What?”

“You want your mate to stay safe then you need to make sure you’re there to make sure I am.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened. “So you’ve settled with this mating then?”

“I wouldn’t go that far. I still think the universe made an enormous mistake. And -” Sam pointed at Dean, “...I am still not going to submit to you.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes.

“But I think maybe I’m resigned to having you around.”

“Gee, thanks Sam. I’m touched.”

“It’s the best you’re going to get. And don’t change the subject.”

“Me? You’re the one that jumped from us talking about your pain addiction to talking about me.”

“I had a point,” Sam scoffed, “and it’s not an addiction.”

“Uh huh. What was your point?”

“I’ve seen you when you’re fighting. As you are now and as your wolf. I’ve seen the satisfaction you feel when you come out on top.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “But I’ve also seen how you look when you hurt someone. It always drew me, honestly. I...” Sam dropped his eyes. “I think I’ve been looking for that for a very long time.”

“Why, Sam? Why do you need the pain so much?”

“I don’t know. I met someone not long after I found out Felicity killed herself. She liked to scrape her nails down my back and arms, my ass. She would lie there after she had come, her arms flung above her head, my blood and skin under her nails. I would be so hard, Dean. I could feel the stinging every time I moved and I would fuck into her for what felt like hours – until the pain stopped. I rarely even came. It wasn’t...” Sam sucked in a huge breath. “It wasn’t really about that.

“I started to search it out after that. I’d meet someone and ask them how they felt about it after a while. Most of the time, people were shocked and horrified. I tried, for a while after that. I tried not to want it. Not to ask for it. But it just wasn’t enough.

“I’d let men fuck me, thinking that might help, but it just wasn’t enough. There’s no pain to it beyond the first push, you know? I just… lost interest for a while in anything else. I found clubs then. Buildings full of people who wanted to hurt me or wanted me to hurt them. I found I wasn’t all that interested in hurting other people, and that letting other people hurt me worked out well enough but it was just… too impersonal, I guess. Too clinical. I could tell they enjoyed what they were doing, but it just wasn’t… I didn’t mean anything to them. I wanted a connection, but all I got was more strangers.”

Dean was quiet, had been the entire time Sam was talking. “You saw correctly when you looked at me,” Dean started. “I don’t know what you’ve heard of me and my story, but I can tell you I did have a mother.”

“Well, that’s good to know.”

“She was an alpha. Just like my father.”

“Oh. Did they use a surrogate?”

“Nope. She gave birth to me.” Dean continued over Sam’s soft sound of surprise. “Well, that’s a lie. My dad cut me from her womb right after she died, that’s what I should have said.”

“What?” Sam was horrified.

“Our wonderful, illustrious pack decided that my mother’s pregnancy was the beginning of a prophecy.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam asked incredulously.

“Nope. Don’t you know, I’m the baby that will change the world – destroy life as we know it.”

“I can’t believe...”

“Yeah. My parents ran, but they found them. Killed my mother and left my father for dead. There was so much blood, they couldn’t tell he was still alive. He ended my mother’s suffering and then cut me out of her. Dad raised me until I was 18. He left to see mother after that.”

“Oh, Dean.”

“I’m alright. Don’t pity me, Sam.”

“I don’t. Truly. I’m just amazed at all you’ve overcome.”

“That’s where my darkness comes from. That and, like you said earlier – I enjoy hurting them, Sam. Call it vengeance. Call it murderous intent. Call it whatever you want. God knows I’ve heard it all. People’s voices carry in ways they don’t realize.”

“Would you...” Sam cleared his throat. “Do you think you’d enjoy hurting me?”

“Not like that. Not… permanently like that.”

“Of course not.”

Dean sat down heavily on the porch, his hands dangling between his thighs. “Do you really want this, Sammy? Really?”

“I need it, Dean. Not all the time, but...”

“No shade.”

Sam made a short punched out sound of disagreement.

“No, Sam. I can’t afford to be that weakened right now. No. Shade.” Dean took a deep breath and held it for a minute. “But I will hurt you.”

Sam gasped, the sound low and quiet in his throat.

“Go in the house, Sam. Now. Strip, and kneel with your arms behind your back. You have thirty seconds while I go collect some things.”

Sam had just stripped and bent himself down onto his knees when someone grabbed him by the hair. It was in his blood to fight, even when he knew in the back of his mind that it was Dean. The hand twisted tighter into his hair, pulling it so it strained against his scalp, his head stinging with the pain.

“Calm down,” Dean says, and Sam felt something in him settle. “I don’t feel like fighting with you right now, so if you want this. Stop fighting me.”

Sam nodded.

Dean kicked at Sam’s legs with the tip of his boot, and Sam spread his legs wider. He was hyper focused on the hand still fisted in his hair, and almost missed what Dean said to him.

“I want you off balance,” he whispered. “I want you to never know what’s coming next. It helps with the pain.”

Sam must have made a noise, because Dean just said, “ _Trust_ me.”

The problem was, Sam did. He wasn’t exactly sure how they ended up here, but Sam would, and was, putting his life in Böxenwolf's hands. And if the heavy weight of his cock against his thigh is any indication, he was happy to do so.

“Don’t move,” Dean said. “I mean it, Sam.”

“Yes...” Sam breathed, then hesitated. “Alpha.”

Dean’s hand jerked in his hair, whipping his head to one side. The hand disappeared from Sam’s hair and he missed it.

Dean disappeared from his side for a moment and Sam strained to hear his footsteps, wanted to know what was going on, what was going to happen next. He almost looked, but he remembered what Dean said, and did not move.

“Very good, Sam,” Dean suddenly whispered into Sam’s ear. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Sam didn’t answer.

Dean stepped away again, and Sam waited. And waited. His knees were beginning to ache and he couldn’t hear Dean anywhere, not even his breathing. Sam was getting impatient, but he stubbornly refused to move. Suddenly, he could hear Dean start to move. His muscles tensed and he was on guard for a blow or some kind of pain to head his way.

Nothing came. Dean continued to move around the room, never in Sam’s sight, always just out of reach.

It seemed like Dean merely shuffled things around, waiting to see if Sam failed to follow his instructions. Sam started to chafe against the silence, Dean’s inactivity. He was tempted to move, to goad Dean into action instead of this incessant waiting. Sam could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

Out of nowhere, there was a white hot, stinging pain and Sam cried out. His ass was on fire, a strip of blessed pain lying right across both cheeks. Sam had fallen forward onto his hands.

“Back up, Sam,” Dean said quietly, and Sam rose immediately, reveling in the pull and stretch of his burning skin.

Dean made a dark sound of approval. “Good boy,” he said, petting Sam’s silky hair, and Sam hissed at him but did nothing further.

Dean was relentless. Sam had seen him like this, of course, had studied him. How he moved, the way he struck out, his preferred methods of attack. In those instances, Dean was a literal wild animal, striking where instinct lead him, going in for the kill in the quickest manner possible.

But in this. In this Dean was methodical and lingering. He lay stripes across Sam’s back, his thighs and his ass. The whip was slow and deliberate in its swing, giving Sam plenty of time to rock back down into his heels, the extra pressure on fresh wounds adding to his joy.

Dean worked his way up and down Sam’s back, his strokes even and specific, and timed perfectly. Sam had fallen to his hands again, then his elbows, and this time, Dean allowed it. He merely shifted his grip on the whip and carried on. Sam gasped and cried out.

Sam could feel the whip coil on the small of his back as Dean let the end lay there. “How are you doing, Sam?”

“More,” Sam begged, his forehead pillowed on his hands. “I need more.”

“Let me look at you first.” Dean swept his hands lightly over Sam’s skin. “Alright, they look fine. Not too much blood. What else do you want?”

“Should I tell you what I want or what I think you’d actually give me?”

Dean dug his fingers into the cheek of Sam’s ass and squeezed.

Sam cried out. “Yes, Dean, god yes.”

“Tell me what you want me to give you.”

“My feet. My chest. My...” Sam raised up suddenly to look straight at Dean. “I want you to whip my cock.”

“No,” It was a knee jerk reaction, for certain, but Dean didn’t regret it.

“Dean, please.”

“No, Sam. I won’t.”

“Why not? It’ll be healed by morning. You know that. There’s nothing you could do to me that would hurt me any more than what I’m looking for.”

“Sam, I’ve already whipped your back, ass and thighs. If I do this, you wouldn’t be able to stand and there would be nowhere for you to lie down without adding to the pain.”

“I know that,” Sam huffed. “I know that, Dean. Don’t you get it? That’s what I want!”

Dean leaned down and grabbed Sam under the arm, urging him to get up. “Listen to me, Sam. Please.”

Sam stood, disappointment painting his face.

“Look at me, Sam,” Dean said. Eventually, Sam did. “I can’t give you this. Understand? It’s not wrong for you to ask, but I can’t do it. Not right now. It’s too much for me. I have too much to worry about right now to add this to it. Okay?”

Sam had begun protesting automatically, but the more Dean said, the more Sam actually listened. “It’s not the time.”

Relief flooded Dean’s face. “Yes. I’m not saying no. Just not right now.”

‘I get it. I do. I’m sorry for pushing, I just...” Sam stopped, unsure how to go on. “Sometimes, I use it to deal with things. I’ve been going over and over this thing with Pellegrino. How it’s going to go down. What I’m going to do.”

Dean put a hand high on Sam’s back, pressing, dragging his fingers over the slices through Sam’s skin.

Sam hissed, then went on. “One minute I think I just want to shift and rip his throat out and be done with it. The next, I...” Sam scrubbed his hands over his face. “The next I want to talk to him. To explain. To try to get him to understand it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Felicity was just...”

“You can try, Sam, but I don’t think it’s going to work. And if he tries anything. If he upsets you or tries to hurt you further, you better kill him immediately, or I’ll do it for you. I respect that this is your kill. I get that. Now. But there’s only so much I can take of someone hurting my mate.”

“Other than you, you mean.”

Dean slapped Sam’s ass. Hard. “Yes. Other than me.”

Sam shuddered when the pain came back, radiating across the plains of his ass like lightning when Dean dug his nails in.

“What now, Sam? What do you need right now?”

Sam opened his mouth, but Dean stopped him, “That I will give you.”

“I have some antiseptic. To treat my wounds and to make sure they stay clean while I heal.”

“Doesn’t that sting like fuck?”

Sam grinned at Dean. “Now you’re catching on.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Dean left Sam sleeping and went after Pellegrino. He was increasingly uncomfortable with Mark being kept where he couldn’t keep close watch on him. His skin had been crawling recently, and he wasn’t sure if it was intuition or just worry.

It was more than just killing Pellegrino. He’d settled himself on that plan of action the second that bullet slammed into his mate. That wasn’t going to change unless Dean somehow ended up dead between now and tomorrow. And maybe it wouldn’t change then, either. He’d heard of sorcerers who dabbled in dark magics. He had a lot of money saved up, and he had no doubt one of them would bring him back for enough of it. He’d just have to figure out how to contact them first.

He knew Sam wasn’t completely sold on their mating yet, but Dean was. He’d gotten one whiff of that deep clean smell, and he was gone. Finding his beaten and crumpled body once he’d tracked Pellegrino had sent Dean into a rage. He’d killed every one Mark had with him without a second thought. He sliced them through cleanly and easily, no wasted time, no spent effort.

Mark, like the coward he was, ran as soon as Dean started in on his men. He’d thought to keep the last one alive for a bit. To find out where Pellegrino would go and what he’d do next, but Sam had let out an agonized moan and that was it for Dean. He’d found people a lot more talented at hiding than Pellegrino ever was, so he wasn’t concerned in the least that he couldn’t find him later. He’d sliced the man’s throat almost all the way through his neck and left him to bleed out, gurgling on the floor, trying to crawl, slipping on his own blood.

He’d been bound to Sam ever since. There wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for him, and boy did that scare the fuck out of Dean. As he ran, Dean thought about the way he felt for Sam. He’d been a loner his entire life. He was happy that way. After what happened to his parents, he was never going to join a pack and put himself at risk like that.

He’d dare anyone to go through that and still trust their pack afterwards.

When he’d found out about Jeff, his first instinct had been to kill him of course, and the second was to take his pack from him. That had really shaken him. What in god’s name was he doing even considering living in a pack, much less running one? He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d been thinking, but he’d almost brought it up to Sam after he’d found out that Sam knew and Jeff was stepping down.

He’d gone so far as to open his mouth before he just turned abruptly and left the room. Sam was obviously driving him crazy. There was no other explanation.

Sam. Dean had never met anyone like him. He made Dean want to pin him down and fuck him almost as often as he wanted to fight him somewhere in a nice, empty field. Dean suspected their mating would more than likely come down to both. Often.

Not that Sam would mind, really. He’d probably relish the pain and beg Dean for more. The memory of Sam begging reared up in Dean’s mind and he nearly stumbled as want rose sharply in his gut. He’d never met anyone that was as perfectly suited to him. His only goal after all this with Pellegrino and Jeff was done? Convincing Sam of that.

**

Dean approached the spot where he’d left Pellegrino. He’d taken a circuitous route to get there just in case, and had done so every time he went to or left Mark’s grave. He could see the tendrils of shade moving over the grave, but no one else would have. Hurrying over, he dug up Pellegrino then shifted back.

“Hey, Mark. How you doing?”

Pellegrino glared at him, but did not answer. Dean hadn’t roughed him up too much, though he did cut off all of his fingers. Any bruises he had healed long ago. Pellegrino hadn’t eaten for over a week and had just enough to drink to keep him alive, so he was listless and his skin was sallow and crepey. Dean had no sympathy for him at all, but he didn’t want him to die from something as simple as starvation before Sam could get ahold of him.

“Nothing to say? Pity.” Dean jerked him up and partially shifted, shade swarming over Pellegrino, funneling down his throat as Dean jerked Pellegrino’s mouth open and poured water into his mouth. He grinned viciously as Mark choked and struggled against the water and the shade, but called his magic back before it could do too much damage.

“Come on, Pellegrino, Sam can’t wait to see you.”

Mark’s eyes widened in fear for a split second, but he narrowed them a moment later, trying to pretend he was unconcerned.

“That’s right, _Alpha_ ,” Dean sneered. “Sam is still alive. Why else do you think you are?” Dean shifted completely and clamped his jaws around Pellegrino’s ankle. “ _Let’s go._ ”

**

Sam was pacing. He’d woken up and Dean was gone. He knew what that meant. Pellegrino was on his way. Sam had been arguing with himself every moment since he’d realized it. Now was the time.

Pellegrino was going to die.

_Maybe he should forgive him. Another revolutionary would kill him eventually anyway. It was inevitable._

_Maybe he should kill him quickly and get it over with._

_Maybe he should make him suffer even a little of what he’d put Sam through._

_Maybe he should let Dean do it and pretend not to see._

_Maybe, maybe, maybe…_

Sam could feel Dean coming closer. He didn’t know what to do.

**

In the end, it was over in mere minutes. Pellegrino looked surprised that Sam was almost completely healed so soon, but that passed quickly. A look of utter hatred passed across his face and he opened his mouth. Sam almost instantly shifted partway and slashed through Mark’s windpipe.

“I didn’t want to hear anything he had to say,” Sam explained to Dean as Mark thrashed and gurgled in the background.

Dean didn’t say anything, just draped an arm around Sam, happier than he should be when Sam leaned against him for a moment. Once Pellegrino was dead, Dean turned to Sam, who just nodded.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Dean said.

“Hurry back,” Sam replied.

Dean gathered up Pellegrino’s body, wrapped it securely for travel and was off an hour later.

**

Dean dropped Pellegrino in the center of his pack's town square two days later. He shifted and calmly dressed while weres gathered, murmuring and clambering to see what was going on.

“Who filled in for Pellegrino when he was gone?”

An alpha stepped up. “I did.”

Dean rolled Pellegrino’s body over so it landed at the were’s feet. “You’re going to need another Alpha.”

Immediately, weres began shifting and snarling. Dean didn’t even flinch.

“He tortured my mate.” Dean stated simply. “I hunted him and Sam killed him.” He looked at every were in the square. “It was our right. And if any of you come after us for doing something that was our _right_ , I will kill you.”

Dean stepped closer to the temporary pack alpha. “You’ve got a chance here, and I suggest you take it. The world is changing and you _won’t_ stop it. Your pack is already on the revolution’s short list. Pellegrino would have died anyway, and they wouldn’t have stopped there. They would have stripped the pack and killed anyone that dared to defy them. You need to take a real hard look at the way you’re treating all your pack members and the smaller packs that come to you for help.”

The alpha remained silent, refusing to look away from Pellegrino’s body.

“It won’t just be the revolutionaries this time,” Dean called loudly, his voice clear and deep. “If things don’t change, I’ll bring you down myself.”

Snarls rang out through the air in response, but no one moved.

Dean grinned. “Go ahead,” he said. “Ignore my warning. I _love_ a good battle.” When there was no response, he turned back the way he came. “You’ll excuse me if I don’t stay. I have a mate to get back to.” With a nod, he was gone.

**

He was home in a day and a half. Sam was pacing the yard in front of the house, naked and clearly having recently shifted.

“I could feel you coming,” he said distractedly as Dean shifted and came up beside him. “Good to see you’re still alive.”

Dean snorted. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Jeff stepped down today at the pack meeting.”

“I wondered if he’d actually do the right thing.”

“They...” Sam stopped.

“They what?”

“He told them the truth, you know? All of it. So they’d understand exactly why he was turning the pack over. People were not happy with him.”

“I’m sure they weren’t.”

“They...” Sam stopped yet again.

“ _They what_ , Sam?”

“They said no one they knew had done more for weres. I tried to tell them all of us who work to change things are like that. They just said that was nice but they didn’t know any of the others. I...”

“You...”

“They offered me the pack,” Sam stated. “They want me to… I went for a run but it didn’t help. I’ve been here for hours trying to decide.”

“You can do a lot of good as pack Alpha.”

“I do a lot of good anyway.”

“True,” Dean said. “You could help more weres if you continue with the revolution.”

“Yeah, but there are a lot of us from assassins all the way up to Alphas working for change. This pack is still growing. They need someone to keep them going in the right direction.”

Dean just nodded. “You’d have a home here.”

“I’d be stuck here.”

“There’s definitely more adventure as an assassin.”

“The chances of me getting killed are considerably lower as pack Alpha.”

“True that.”

Sam stopped abruptly and turned to Dean. “What would you do if I went back on the hunt?”

“Go with you.”

“And what would you do if I stayed here?”

“Stay with you,” Dean paused for a second. “And probably go out from time to time just to kill things. You understand.”

“What I understand is that I’m going to be pack Alpha,” Sam said with a smile, “and you’re going to be my pretty little mate.”

Dean threw his head back and laughed, his mirth boomeranging through the trees. “I think it’s finally time to settle this, don’t you?”

Sam shifted immediately. _Let’s do this._

_Come on Sammy. Let’s get this over with, I can’t wait to fuck you._

_You can try,_ Sammy growled back. _You can try._

 

His boy was a sneaky one, Dean had discovered. What he thought was going to take a half an hour tops had been going for almost three hours. Sam wasn’t as strong as he was, but he was smart. He switched in and out of his forms like water, knowing Dean would never take the risk of permanently harming him.

The first time, Dean had Sam pinned, his teeth buried in the scruff of Sam’s neck. Sam shifted to his human form, surprising Dean who immediately let go and shifted back, as well.

“Sammy? You okay?”

Sam just smiled – and then swept Dean’s legs out from under him and dropped heavily down on top of him.

“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?” Dean snarled. “That’s just fine with me.”

Their battle was long and much more brutal than either expected. They were currently on either side of a felled and broken tree that had been taken out by the force of two heavy alpha wolf bodies repeatedly slamming against it. They’d tried to keep their fighting to the forest, but there had still been a few pack members traveling around where they were.

Most had run toward them at first, but then inevitably they figured out what was going on and left them be. Dean had heard a couple of them warning people away from the area where they were.

Dean could feel blood streaming down the side of his muzzle and neck and he was pretty sure one of his paws was at the very least sprained. Sam had bitten a large chunk out of his flank as he struggled to get away from Dean.

Sam wore Dean’s claw marks up his side and one eye was beginning to swell. He spat blood out of his mouth and neither was quite clear if it was his own or Dean’s.

They were tired. They were hurt. But neither were interested in an easy finish. Neither he nor Sam were built that way.

He saw a twisted satisfaction in Sam’s eyes when Dean lunged for him and missed, the pain in his leg throwing him off. Sam was on him immediately, and it was all Dean could do to twist and turn and keep Sam from wrestling him fully to the ground.

Sam snapped at him a few minutes later, his powerful jaws barely missing Dean’s face. That was it. He spat a snarled warning at Sam and doubled down.

In the end, it was his slight weight advantage that gave him the upper hand. Sam had just lunged at Dean, his paw barely catching Dean’s shoulder as he moved. When Sam landed on the forest floor, Dean pounced and immediately shifted. He wrapped his human arms around Sam’s thick throat, One forearm caught in his other hand so he could put maximum pressure on Sam’s windpipe.

Sam snarled and choked, his paws digging deep ruts in the ground as he tried to get out from under Dean’s immense dead weight.

“Shift,” Dean growled.

_Fuck you._

“Shift!” Dean yelled, tightening his hold on Sam’s throat even further. “Shift goddamn you! I don’t want to hurt you any more!”

Sam snarled, but shifted.

Dean immediately grabbed Sam’s flailing arms and brought them together twisted behind Sam’s back.

“Settle, Sam,” he hissed as he used his weight to push Sam’s face into the dirt.

Sam became aware of three things simultaneously: dirt really did taste terrible, his arms ached like a bitch in this position and he could feel Dean’s hard cock nestled tight between his legs. He started to growl low in his throat.

“Stop fighting, Sammy.” Dean paused for a second. “Please.”

Sam didn’t make it easy for him, though and Dean was cursing as he shifted both arms behind Sam’s back and used the other to spread Sam for his cock.

“Mate,” he hissed as he sunk into Sam.

“Mate,” Sam spat back.

The day had been long and the fight terrible and cruel and it didn’t take long for either to come, Dean deep into Sam’s ass and Sam in Dean’s hard rough hand and on the ground. Sam screamed when Dean’s knot was fully inflated and he came again soon after. They both collapsed to the ground and Dean grunted in pain as Sam partially shifted and took one final swipe up the back of Dean’s thigh.

“Goddamn, sweetheart. I thought you were going to kill me a couple times there.”

Sam snorted, “If you’d just have given me the chance...”

They fell asleep, dusk falling with a blanket of fireflies and cool breezes. When they woke they were mostly healed, much to Sam’s disappointment. They were headed back to the house when something occurred to Dean.

“I still have to mark you,” he commented idly, chomping his teeth a couple times.

Sam just grinned, “Should have done that when you had the chance. Who knows when you’ll get another?”

Dean stopped, his eyes narrowed in on Sam’s cocky face. Opening his lips, he let his fangs lengthen in his mouth.

_Oh, I bet it’ll be soon._

Sam gave him a filthy, fang filled smile. _Let’s see, shall we?_

 

__

 


End file.
